


The Depth of the Shallows

by JD_Centric



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bands, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Bullying, Character Death, Drinking, Exploration of sexuality, F/M, Falling In Love, Fighting, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Music, Mutual Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Rock and Roll, School Violence, Sexual Content, Teen Romance, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Violence, cursing, homophobic talk, past bullying, sexual talk, sweethearts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-02-04 13:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 42,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18605803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Centric/pseuds/JD_Centric
Summary: “I don’t like girls,” Ethan repeated, sounding louder and stronger now that he had crossed the threshold of the truth and had told Alex once. “Like, at all. I mean, I told Sarah Jacobs but maybe you didn’t believe me back then. I think you thought I was making stuff up to throw her off or…”“You’re gay?” Alex said and in the empty classroom, in the silence, the word sounded far dirtier and menacing than he had probably intended."//Alex Decker had known his friend Ethan for years, had been in a band together with him for years, had made music with him for years - the truth that Ethan liked boys in a way different than just friendly shocked him more than necessary, starting something between them that they have no control over.//





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promised myself that 2019 will be the year of me finally popularizing my original work, though I never thought that this is how I'd start...
> 
> FIRST AND FOREMOST, Hello guys, most of you must know me by now from my IT fanfiction if you're coming here from Tumblr and this is me, very shyly, showing off my original writing. I decided to start off with something small and easy to give light to some of my favourite side characters from my novel in progress, 'Helter Skelter'. In a way, this is a spin-off, something like canon fanfiction, mostly because these events aren't mentioned in the original plot of the story. I also very much wanted to experiment a bit with Ethan Mallory's character because I'm apparently very bad at not falling in love with the minor characters who are supposed to show up for two sentences in total. Alex Decker, although more oftenly seen throughout the main story, is also someone I really wanted to play around a bit with. This story might not matter too much but it's my way of showing that the whole point of 'Helter Skelter' and the stories in it is to recreate teenage anxieties, fears and misconceptions. So, this is me trying to do just that...
> 
> The original title of this was supposed to be something along the lines of 'He blew me one last kiss' or 'Him' or anything cheesy like that before I settled on something vaguelly tied to the now iconic song 'Shallow' (Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper) as I felt it represented this relationship very well. The story is set in the summer of 2017 as the main plot of 'Helter Skelter' begins then and continues throughout to the summer of 2018, so I couldn't directly make a reference to the song in the story. Aside from the connection to 'A star is born', a lot of romance and drama vibes I got from the turkish movie 'Delibal' which I highly reccomend, it was spectacular, tragic, lovely, just...perfect! Also, the amazing 'Carol' also helped make the energy flow better. Kudos to all of these!
> 
> I'm trying to think of more to say and I'm failing. It's probably right to mention that though I come from a family of musicians I have no idea how playing instruments or making music works so if I've made a mistake in the description of that anywhere, you may very politely point it out. Same goes for everything else, critique is welcomed only if it's polite, thank you! This is a work of fiction and thus any landmarks or things like that might not fully match reality (I don't even live in America, so...I'm trying my best...plus, Google Maps). Point out those things to me and tell me how I can improve, really, I would be very thankful.
> 
> If you have any questions or just want to talk, find me on Tumblr at @j-fuckin-d! Thank you for coming and now, let's get on with the story! Enjoy!

**1.**

 

 Very few things in life could be called predictable and Alex had known that for as long as he’d known that Santa didn’t exist. He knew the sun didn’t magically go out at night, just rose in another part of the planet, knew the moon never actually disappeared from the sky, knew that the water in the sea was salty and so on and so forth. Alex wasn’t stupid, though his grades said otherwise, and, yes, he might have been bad in math and chemistry, but it wasn’t because he was too dumb to grasp the scientific concept of the subjects but because he had no time to waste. One day, he would hardly be able to calculate his own bills, sure, but he would never lose his music.

 But one thing Alex, for all his innate smarts and wit and talent, could never have known and it was that revelation that came to him now as he stood in Mr Siedle’s music room, ready to leave after class. Well, it couldn’t have been called a _revelation_ because the truth that had been hiding just under his nose was plain and simple and it was told to him in confidence he never would have mustered was he in Ethan’s place.

 “You…” He uttered, feeling his tongue dry and heavy in his mouth, “Sorry, what?”

 “I don’t like girls,” Ethan repeated, sounding louder and stronger now that he had crossed the threshold of the truth and had told Alex once. “Like, at all. I mean, I told Sarah Jacobs but maybe you didn’t believe me back then. I think you thought I was making stuff up to throw her off or…”

 “You’re gay?” Alex said and in the empty classroom, in the silence, the word sounded far dirtier and menacing than he had probably intended. His nose wrinkled involuntarily and Ethan easily caught the slight change in his demeanour.

 “You make it sound like a problem.” He said slowly. His lips stretched into a nervous smile and compared to his signature bright and bold smirk that was even cocky, leaking confidence and power, that meek attempt at calming Alex and convincing himself that he had mistaken his hostile reaction was pointless.

 “Well…I don’t know,”

 “What do you mean by that? Dude,” Ethan laughed, or tried to, “I’m still me, okay? Like, this doesn’t change anything. I’m still the chill guy you know. Look, just…Don’t tell anybody, alright? I mean, I’ve told my parents, that is, they’re cool with it, but nobody else really has to know. I mean, this is _Enfield_. Like, I haven’t even told Ronny, I don’t think anybody can really handle it if I…told.”

 Seeing the lack of understanding in Alex and the tension in his shoulders made Ethan quickly regret ever telling him. Sure, he had told Sarah Jacobs that one time that he played for the other team and he had done so directly and with remarkable ease. Only later had he realised that Ronny Dawson had been in earshot and could have easily made a problem out of it. He hadn’t, luckily, but Alex had heard him then, he had laughed as if Ethan had told a joke…

 And maybe that’s what had fooled Ethan the first time, made him think that Alex of all people, with his open mind and rationality, could accept it.

 “I won’t tell.” Alex promised him hesitantly. He even tried to smile but that worked out as well as it had for Ethan. “I mean…I have no one to tell. I won’t.”

 “Is everything between us…” Ethan trailed off, shuffling in his spot, clammy hand tight around the strap of his backpack, “I mean, are you okay with…me?”

 Ethan had never sounded so unlike himself, so afraid of what he was saying and of himself, but it was Alex’s silence that further made him nervous. He felt as though he had just broken something between them, opened up a door that should’ve stayed shut. But he couldn’t have known and his naivety had always been fuelled by Alex’s lack of interest in the topic of sexual diversity in Enfield. He had always been silent on the matter where guys like Ronny Dawson held on to their masculinity like dying men. Alex had always been different but maybe, by Enfield standards, he wasn’t _that_ different.

 Instead of an answer, Alex bent down to push the rest of his things in his backpack. Ethan watched him silently, teeth digging into his lip as he waited desperately. But Alex avoided his searching eyes. Ethan couldn’t tell if he was ashamed – ashamed of him, of standing too close to him – or afraid to look up.

 “Alex, dude…?” He tried and Alex shot up suddenly, throwing his bag over one shoulder and twisting the strap in his haste.

 “I gotta go,” he said, “see you tomorrow.”

 “Are we cool?” Ethan called after him as Alex dashed for the door.

 “Hmm, yeah,” he mumbled over his shoulder, “whatever, dude.”

 When Alex ran out of the door, a tortured exhale tore from Ethan’s lungs. Never had he felt so…not right. With a family full of understanding, of love and acceptance, Ethan had never felt anything but normal. And no amount of homophobic talk as was the only kind of talk in a small town like Enfield could change his state of mind. So why did Alex’s reaction bother him and make him feel out of place, dirty and so fucked up?

 The colour drained from Ethan’s face, giving light to an array of pale freckles. Would Alex tell? He wouldn’t but also Ethan had expected a wholly different reaction just because it was Alex.

 Irritated and angry, with himself more than with Alex, Ethan threw his own bag over his shoulder and finally found the strength to get up and leave.

 He went home that day alone and with a heavy heart, a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach where there was usually nothing but minor hunger or the occasional butterflies a good song could give him. His mind was floating in a cloud of mist, the tip of his tongue sticking out just barely between a pair of dry lips to run along the edges of his teeth, feeling the ridges and their odd, crooked angles, the result of taking off his braces too early.

 Ronny Dawson was already home by the time Ethan made it to the cul de sac where their houses stood one beside the other. Ronny was a gangly kid, seemingly never grown out of the punk stage, and as the only boy Ethan’s age on the whole street, they had been paired together for long enough to believe they were besties. In reality, though Ethan had his own moments of unwarranted rudeness, it was hard for him sometimes to keep up with Ronny’s bad side. Not that Ronny had a temper, not that he was violent, he was just a narcissistic piece of garbage, put lightly, the kind of mean girl to bad talk those he didn’t like behind their backs and to spread rumours just because he could.

 Right now, that mean girl of the block, who looked even more feminine from behind if only because his hair had grown another inch over the past few weeks, stood shirtless over his father’s car. Ethan would have walked right past him hadn’t Ronny called out to him first.

 “Wanna go for a ride later?” He said, nodding to the car. On a better day, Ethan would be up for it in a heartbeat, always ready to get in trouble with Ronny because they knew neither of them could drive and driving in circles in the barrens was always a cool option with the risk of running right over the quarry and going down in a ball of fire and 80s metal.

 Only today wasn’t that good of a day, looking back on it, and Alex wasn’t the only problem.

 “I’ll catch you tomorrow maybe,” Ethan said.

 “What’re you doing later?”

 Ethan shrugged. He wasn’t in the mood to talk at all.

 “Can I come over later?” Ronny invited himself, sticking to his usual casualty. This time, however, Ethan wouldn’t relent. “We can play something.”

 “You better not,” Ethan said, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot. He didn’t want to deal with Ronny but he also didn’t want to insult him by any chance. Because wasn’t the queen sensitive. “I have…stuff to do.”

 Ronny scoffed, bending back over the car in a show of mock nonchalance, “Yeah, fine, go jack a few out in that basement of yours.”

 “Thanks for the secrecy and understanding, man, don’t tell my mamma.”

 Rolling his eyes at Ronny’s demonstrative lack of interest or response, Ethan headed inside. There he dropped his backpack and it fell by his feet with a shallow thud. He pressed his back to the door and breathed in the signature scent of home – lavender from his mother, aftershave and Old Spice from his daddy, and maybe just a bit of himself though he had no idea what he smelled of.

 This early into the day his mother would be home, drinking fruit smoothies and reading Vogue or any other beauty mag with a soap opera running on the living room TV. That’s where Ethan caught her when he took off his shoes and sluggishly made it inside.

 “How was your day, sunshine?” Mrs Mallory asked him, her tone sweet and loving though a bit distracted. She didn’t spare Ethan a look when he plopped in the armchair by the sofa and from a different perspective, she would have appeared a rather disinterested mother didn’t Ethan know better. There was nothing in the world Mrs Mallory loved more than her sunny child, her golden boy, her sugar cookie. And she made sure to show him as well as tell him at least once a day.

 Ethan hesitated with his answer, staring blankly at the TV screen.

 “Today didn’t go too good.” He said finally.

 Mrs Mallory looked at him, brows pinching in concern. “What happened?”

 Hesitation from him, again, before, “I got a D on that History test.”

 “Ethan…”

 “And I think I told Alex about…” Ethan licked his dry lips, his tongue catching along the bitten flakes of skin, “I might have told him I like boys.”

 Mrs Mallory said nothing, about either thing her son had told her. She wasn’t particularly mad about the bad grade, she had graduated music school in LA and History too was the farthest from her strong sides. About the latter news, she was more concerned than anything really.

 “Alex? Alex Decker?”

 Ethan nodded.

 “And…did he took it well? What happened?”

 He didn’t really want to remember that awkward beat of silence between them in the classroom, the moment of stunned tension between _Alex, I’m gay_ and _Yeah, dude, whatever_. Ethan could almost feel the pain a physical force choking him. He winced through his teeth, giving his mother enough of an answer.

 “Ouch,” she sighed, “I’m sorry, baby. Why did you have to go and do that?”

 “I don’t even know! Just…I didn’t think he would take it so bad. Actually, he didn’t take it badly, he didn’t say anything. But he acted, you know, weird enough…” A sigh, desperate, “What do I do? He said he won’t tell anybody but, damn it…”

 “Language,” Mrs Mallory scolded gently.

 “Yeah,” Ethan said, “I’m sorry. I just thought that…Well, because Alex is a friend…”

 “Honey, I’m not going to tell you just who to tell and who not but…Maybe you could have waited? I don’t think anyone in this town is right to tell such a thing to, you know how it is, you _see_.”

 “Yeah,” Ethan conceded drily. Truth be told, he was getting tired of hearing that. Enfield wouldn’t change and neither would the people in it but that had nothing to do with him, what he was, how he felt. Ethan didn’t believe in labels and so he saw no reason for others to do the same. “Whatever. We’ll work it out, probably. It’s not like we can avoid each other…”

 “Are you still going to play this Friday?”

 “At the Radio Tower? Sure. No, Alex won’t give up on that. He’ll be there, we’ll play.”

 Mrs Mallory looked about ready to say that maybe Alex would decide to run…She kept quiet but her doubtful expression spoke enough.

 “Are you going to come and watch?” Ethan asked her tentatively after a moment of silence. He already knew what she would say when she took a short breath.

 “Of course, sunshine!” Mrs Mallory exclaimed. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world! You know me and your dad are your greatest fans.”

 Ethan knew that much and it made him feel rather good with his minor accomplishments so far in life.

 What they called the Radio Tower was now barely the converted remains of what had been the Enfield Radio Station. In the nineties after the company that supported it went bankrupt, the building was sold to Lewis, Lucky, Turner and his brother who turned into a roadhouse. They had to sell it the summer of 2004 but its name and purpose remained. Turner’s, as the bar was known in Enfield, was one of the few places where kids and adults could go have fun on a Wednesday night. The drinks were cheap, the atmosphere was safe and free of any drugs harder than weed, of judgement and ridicule. Every Friday through Sunday evening, from eight to three in the goddamn morning, Turner’s would host live music nights where amateurs to professionals would play everything from the crappy hippie shit to trash metal and everything in between.

 As of a few months ago, thanks to Mr Siedle and his friendship with Art Maggio, the current owner of Turner’s, Ethan and the boys had a sure gig every Friday, a table reserved to watch the rest of the show and free drinks as long as their original price was below the average three bucks. They got a few dollars each and it was the closest thing to an actual job Ethan’s ever had in his life. If music could make him twenty bucks a week, then did he even need anything else?

 The only other people more excited than him to be playing at Turner’s every now and again were his parents. His mother had formally taught piano and music in Sacramento before deciding that they could get by with just a few lessons to the local kids a week and his father had been a wannabe musician before the low income had forced him to choose a change of career after Ethan was born. The two had even met a concert of some indie band Ethan had never really heard of. Now their only actual relation to music and the feeling of youth, weed and endless nights of open-field concerts was Ethan, his gigs at Turner’s and the drums in his basement where he and guys would practice or just have fun after school.

 Thinking about Friday made Ethan unfairly giddy and just as nervous. Not because he had a problem playing, actually there was nothing more he loved than to sweat out a bit of pent up aggression in front of a cheering crowd. He thought of Alex and what his mother had mutely implied. Would he really decide to ignore Ethan now or would it really be so awkward that their chemistry on stage would suffer? Because they did have chemistry, it’s how their thing worked. Alex could say he was going to sing Beyonce for all Ethan cared and he would be right there to back him up with an artsy improvisation. If Alex decided to walk out on them they could easily find a replacement…But it wouldn’t be the same, Ethan wouldn’t be able to do his job the same.

 That fear chased him all throughout the day and into the next morning while he biked to school with Ronny. For all their good friendship he hardly got to talk to Alex through school, he mostly just stuck to Ronny, would smoke a cig with Lindsey Logan in the courtyard, would share hellos with Danny Marsden, but those interactions would be incredibly forced and odd.

 All until they met again for Mr Siedle’s class at the end of the day. They made it work surprisingly better then, possibly because their separate worlds collided and fitted in nicely without the unnecessary distractions of the school system.

 Ethan felt wary as he stayed behind that day for band practice. Alex was yet to come and each time the door to the music room opened his heart would skip and his hopes would shatter as someone else would come in, someone that wasn’t Alex.

 His eyes were drawn to the door, burning holes into the white plastic while he tapped his foot to the beat of Rise Against blasting through his earbuds. Ethan had only one on, so he could hear if anybody needed anything – they had a few freshmen this year that always seemed to need guidance or reassurance – while the other dangled on its chord over his chest. But even so, maybe he wouldn’t be able to hear if anyone wanted to talk to him, he was too far gone in his own thoughts.

 “Well, if everybody’s here,” Mr Siedle said, clapping his hands to get their attention and settle the commotion, “let’s get on with it.”

 He had barely finished his sentence when the door opened and Alex stumbled in. He was a bit red-faced and his chest was heaving, signs that he had been in a hurry. Mr Siedle raised a brow in his direction.

 “Sorry I’m late,” Alex apologized, his voice sounding flat rather than apologetic. His eyes scanned the room for a free chair to settle in and Ethan hoped that he would take the one beside the drums where he normally sat rather than make any unnecessary scenes.

 Lucky for him, Alex didn’t seem to think much about it before crossing the room, dropping his backpack by the chair closest to Ethan and sitting down.

 “I forgot my guitar in Andy’s car.” He hissed quietly and Ethan knew he was talking to him. The acknowledgement, although rather sharp, made him smile.

 “It’s cool.” He said, pocketing his earbuds and shaking out the remaining lyrics from his head. “You’re still up for Friday, right?”

 “At Turner’s? Fuck yeah, man.”

 Ethan muttered a quiet prayer of relief when he heard those words. They charged him with enough energy to get through the rest of class without even feeling the urge to scowl or make fun at their more inexperienced underclassmen and peers whenever they made a mistake. Usually half of his fun came from making side commentary, no bite or insult really intended, but right now he felt good enough sharing the occasional words with Danny and Alex and poking fun at Ronny whenever he missed a note.

 They begged a smoke break out of Mr Siedle a few minutes before the end of class and he reluctantly let them go so he could deal with the few students who had visible troubles. Ethan took that moment to try and hold Alex back so he could try and get another thing out of him, something else to soothe his guilt.

 “About yesterday,” he said and Alex instantly became protective, shifting his glance away from Ethan as if he were mad at him for bringing it up, “I wasn’t joking. Are we cool, dude? Come on, tell me I didn’t make a mistake…”

 His pleading tone was hard to ignore, even for Alex. He mellowed out suddenly before looking at him.

 “Of course, we’re cool, dude,” Alex promised. “I’ve been thinking about this shit since yesterday and…I’m really sorry for running out on you, okay? Seriously, I am. It wasn’t fair.”

 “We’re cool,” Ethan reassured, loving the sound of those words.

 “No, just…I’m sorry, okay?” He punched his shoulder, a playful, teasing whack that got Ethan to smile. “I don’t care…what you like, or who you like. You’re still the crazy dude you always are, promise me that and we’re golden.”

 “Oh, we’re golden, alright.” Ethan agreed, feeling much like his mouth was full of cotton.

 They joined the others for a smoke, Ethan’s arm thrown over Alex’s shoulders like it belonged there, Alex laughing like nothing had happened.

 And, actually, had anything happened? Surely not, and whoever said otherwise could go politely jack one off for ‘ole Ethan’s patience.

 

 They decided to dedicate tonight to Kevin. Nobody knew who Kevin was and nobody cared but nobody would really stop them from saying a good word in his name. They had hardly known him either and now it was too late to get to know him – Kevin had committed suicide the week before.

 The air was thick with sweat, colognes and perfumes strong enough to make one dizzy and to mask the stench of weed and vomit. Someone beside him was smoking and the cigarette stench snuck into the fibres of his clothes and made him huff the occasional masked cough. Alex was wild tonight, wilder than the usual, rowdier and louder as he ordered their drinks just before it was their turn on the stage. Ethan couldn’t tear his eyes off him, off the youthful flush of his cheeks, even though he was supposed to be too busy arguing with Danny.

 “I’m not playing that.” Danny was telling him, shouting over the music. The band that was already on the stage on the other side of the wide first floor had an odd sound and neither of them could really make out the lyrics the vocalist was breathlessly shouting but Ethan would applaud them just the same when they came down. It was part of his on-stage manners. “We haven’t played that song more than once, I’m gonna mess it up.”

 “You’re not gonna mess up shit, dude!” Ethan tried to convince him. “Okay, so we haven’t practised it that much, who gives a fuck? Just improvise if you forget or mess up, okay? It’s not like the stuff I do ain’t impromptu!”

 “Nobody’s going to notice if you skip a note, Dee.” Lindsey Logan, who sat on Danny’s left, yelled over the scraping noise reminding of metal sheets slapping together spilling through the speakers. Usually, whenever Danny wasn’t able to play with them she’d fill in for him and so she was the only girl, unofficially, part of the band. “Half of the people here don’t even have the basic understanding of what they’re really listening to as long as it sounds good. And you make it sound awesome.”

 “I’m not playing that.” Danny persisted. Ethan could understand why he would be nervous but they had been playing together for months. Neither of them was really, honestly, better than the other and they were at the top of the class, so Danny’s worries and insecurities were as good as shit right now.

 Ethan’s eyes wandered back up to Alex who was downing his third shot so far. Ronny was watching him sourly before raising a hand for another round of drinks. Lindsey hadn’t even touched her vodka and orange juice and Danny was the only one nursing a beer.

 “Dudes, I’m hyped for this,” Alex exclaimed, slapping his palms over the counter. There was already a thin sheen of sweat covering his rosy face; he looked alive, he looked childishly happy. Whether it was the alcohol or not, Ethan didn’t care. Ever since their conversation the day after he came out to him, Alex had been acting as if it really was all some elaborate joke…Either that or he was finally accepting Ethan and really didn’t care about what labels people would put on him. Ethan couldn’t really tell what he would be comfier with.

 “Alex will cover for you if you get too nervous and miss something,” He tried to tell Danny again. “He’s playing tonight too and, like Lin said, do you even think people will be paying attention? I could probably rock it off on fucking air drums, break a sweat, and people will still be going nuts!”

 Danny had an expression of disbelief and bitterness on but he didn’t argue anymore; Ethan took that as a victory. He clapped him over the shoulder and turned around to wave over the bartender. He got himself a shot of vodka and a glass of water to wash down the burn after before gazing shyly back at Alex. He was drenched, his shirt sticking to his back and around his arms where the barest hints muscle made the thin cotton stretch.

 “Ethan, dude,” Lindsey nudged him, interrupting his fascinated ogling, “I see your parents!”

 Mr and Mrs Mallory were just about to settle on the other end of the bar when Ethan looked up. Only his mother looked more out of place, with a dress covered in colourful flowers and knitted vest she took off soon after. But in Turner’s, there wasn’t really a dress code.

 “Yeah, there they are.” He confirmed.

 Lindsey smiled, “God, I so love your parents.”

 “Yeah, don’t tell daddy that, my mamma will probably get jealous.”

 Somebody clapped him over the shoulder and when Ethan looked up he saw Tony Kay, from the maintenance crew.

 “You’re up in ten, guys,” he said, “wrap up with the drinks and get behind stage.”

 “Good luck,” Lindsey wished them as they slid off their round stools. “I’ll be in the front with Siedle when he gets here.”

 Ethan threw her a glance, winked with practised ease as Alex blew her a kiss while he skipped after them through the crowd. He threw an arm over Ethan, comfortable as before to be close to him and touch him. Ethan would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the weight of his body leaning into his, the faint smell of mint and spirits on his breath when he opened his mouth to shout a cheer for the band already announcing their final piece.

 “You got refreshments, Ethan?” Ronny drawled, punching a fist against his shoulder as they trailed into the back room all bands shared. It was tight, dingy and reeked of smoke, of sex and sweat. It was theirs, it was familiar, and if Ethan were to die right now, drop dead on the couch covered in odd stains and burn holes, he’d die a happy man.

 He grinned, tongue idly running along the front of his teeth to feel the surface, clean, smooth. He felt the sudden urge to bite into something, dig his teeth into something that would yield easy and nice.

 “Like what?” Ethan asked, feigning innocence as he leaned back into Ronny’s palm. He wasn’t drunk, wasn’t even that excited to get up on stage and grab the drum sticks. He felt lazy, head fogged and stomach empty, aching for the buzz of a soon to overcome him emotion. He knew damn well what Ronny was implying. And, oh, he had come prepared.

 Only Danny appeared disinterested, if only because he had no idea what exactly they were talking about. Alex was staring at Ethan with unmasked interest, an intensity capable of burning through clothes, through flesh and bones. It sent a sudden spark through Ethan’s chilled skin, made his throat go dry.

 He dipped his fingers into the inner pocket of his vest and slowly, like a magician pulling a bunny out of his hat, pulled out a nearly perfectly rolled joint. Ronny and Alex both cheered and though Danny tried not to seem like it, he was suddenly impressed, looking at Ethan and the joint in his hand with childish awe. Ethan had planned on saving it for later, after the gig, but maybe some of them could use the distraction more now rather than later.

 “I love you, man!” Ronny roared, trying to wrestle the joint out of Ethan’s hand. Ethan, in turn, kept it as far out of reach as he could.

 “You’re not getting the first turn,” he scowled, “We’re doing puff, puff, pass here. Your puff is one huge inhale that leaves us with no pass!”

 “Can I have it first?” Danny asked, not at all as tentative as Ethan had thought he looked. It was a surprise, a pleasant one. Ethan had always liked Danny, even if he was sometimes a bit too withdrawn for his taste. As long as he had a reason, it was fine. Ethan wasn’t that normal either.

 “Have you ever even smoked, dude?” Ronny said, eyes narrowed.

 Danny shrugged, “Can’t be that hard. Is it like with cigarettes?”

 “You just hold it in a bit longer,” Alex began to explain just as the door abruptly opened. Ethan nearly dropped the joint as he scrambled to pocket it again.

 Thankfully, it wasn’t Mr Siedle who had just caught them about to start fooling around before a show. It was just the other band that had just apparently finished and come in to grab their stuff and make some more room for them. Tony Kay was following after them, raising a hand and signing for Ethan that they had five more minutes to get their shit together and be up on stage. There was no time for the joint; maybe later.

 While Ethan enthusiastically congratulated and chatted up the guys from the band with the odd mix of metal and techno, Alex and Danny ran out to set up their instruments and make a quick sound check. The crowd was already beginning to still, erupting in short, deliberate cheers whenever either of them skipped on stage. They were a town favourite; they were the Enfield boys. LA punks could put them in a frenzy but they had a small following that would be hard to win anywhere but in the place where they were locals. People in Enfield had very few things to pride themselves with and if they could one day say they had a few great boys that made it to Hollywood, then that would be pretty fine.

 The crowd at Turner’s was never different; there were rarely unfamiliar faces from what Ethan could see in the few short moments he could actually look up and look around without the lights shining in his eyes or the sweat running down his face like an acid shower. He knew from Ronny and Danny that they never really noticed who was screaming down there, the lights turned the pit into a splotch of black full of outstretched hands and something which very vaguely reminded of human shapes. Alex rarely paid attention too. Sometimes their families would be there watching, the Mallorys never missed a gig, and Mr Siedle and Lindsey were always sitting on the line of tables separating the dance floor from the stage. The crowd at Turner’s was also predictable but each time Ethan had to walk out, to settle down behind the drums and get ready to roll, his heart went wild, his hands became clammy and his breathe stuttered until he felt like he would faint any moment. And he couldn’t do that, he was the one who had to damn start the show.

 Each and every damn time Ethan felt the jitters for a few painful seconds as the crowd stilled, when the lights were so bright they were like suns, when their heat made his eyeliner runny and forced the blood right out of his limbs and into his face. Then that beat would pass as Alex took his place behind the mic and did his sound check or thanked the crowd for being there with that bright, witty smile of his. Then by some miracle, Ethan’s hands would move on their own, many times without him even having to think about their movements, then his blood would rush right down to his groin just as he heard the first sounds of their music. It was in that hot moment that Ethan’s mind would shut down, that he would very metaphorically faint and just let himself run on autopilot without any fear whatsoever.

 They had decided beforehand to play a few covers, then dedicate something small but meaningful for Kevin who nobody really knew, and maybe then finish off with something more original though they barely had five songs of their own in total, three of which they had played once in Ethan’s basement. For the all-time favourites of Enfield, the boys were less ready to roll than they appeared. Improvisation should have been their band name with how often they resorted to it.

 In the short moments in between the rush of the music and the tight stretch of his muscles, Ethan would glance up, scan the crowd and watch the boys. Danny was doing well halfway into Rise Against’s _I don’t want to be here anymore_ , and Alex was having the time of his life, or so it seemed. In his excitement, he hopped onto the row of speakers lining the front of the round stage giving it an air of professionalism hard to achieve in a dingy out of town bar. For a brief moment, he lost his footing on the way down and Ethan thought he would either fall backwards if his foot caught in the numerous chords lining the top of the stage or forward into the crowd.

 He composed himself quickly though and only the slight tremor in his voice betrayed his sudden fright. Alex threw him a look over his shoulder in the pause between lines, his face pale and covered in sweat, nostrils flaring as he caught his breath. His eyes were wild, searching, and maybe Ethan had a very similar look. It was like looking in a mirror. The same buzz he had felt earlier in the back room made his hands shake again and now it was dangerous.

 “What do I sing now?” Alex asked him coarsely as the song ended, his beautiful voice, unnaturally deep for a boy his age, tired and gritty. They grabbed a bottle of water each, drinking half in large, thirsty gulps and pouring the rest over their heads to cool off. They still had three more songs to go and now they had no idea what they had to be. They had nothing ready enough to be sure about it.

 “Just sing whatever,” Ethan called over the cheering, “I’ll pick it up.”

 Alex looked momentarily lost. His mind had gone blank, unable to think of anything at the moment.

 Then, after a heartbeat, he threw aside his drenched shirt and grabbed the mic again with the confidence he would handle a girl. Compared to his rushed movements, when he opened his mouth, his voice was surprisingly gentle and melodic; it wasn’t their usual renditions of Rise Against, or Billy Talent or even the classics like Nirvana and Metallica.

 Alex was singing _Young and a Menace_ , smooth and slow, with just the right amount of energy behind every tone. It seemed for the first time in a long time that he wasn’t just moving his lips but that he was singing with his heart, lacing his voice with deep, unfathomable meaning. So beautiful and heartfelt were the lyrics as they came out in something so typically Alex that the crowd quieted down to just listen and let the music soak through them and even Ethan had to miss a few beats before finally putting a rhythm to what Ronny was trying to sell as music but was actually a stunned and awkward tugging of strings.

 “You know what?” Ethan had told Alex once, back when they were new and nervous on the stage. “If you ever forget what to sing, don’t freeze up. Even if you start singing _All the single ladies_ , I’d still be able to jam to it.”

 Now, it wasn’t Beyonce, but Ethan felt breathless and grateful all the same. Fuck you, Alexander, he couldn’t help but think. Throwing him off his groove with all the best shit he had.

 The crowd, previously stunned into silence by the dramatic turn of genre, suddenly erupted into fits of cheers; they sang along as soon as they caught grasp of the lyrics. In the front row, Mr Siedle was recording, the camera of his phone catching the awful glimmer the white stage lights gave Alex’s sweat-covered skin. The air up on the stage was humid, stretching tight around them almost like a physical entity. Like the inside of an incubator with the stale taste of leather.

 Alex was breathless once he finished, obviously, he had made a bad song choice considering his tired voice; irritated chord ached for cold water as much as desert soil. Roses bloomed high on his cheeks and as he bent down to gather his shirt, a teasing drop of salty sweat rolled down the side of his neck, muscles strained underneath the skin. If Ethan didn’t know better, he would’ve made a sex joke, not as though there was ever a proper time for some of those.

 “Are you feeling okay?” Alex asked him, words slurred and rushed around a grin. They were done for the night, finished and drained.

 “Yeah, why?” Ethan said, trailing after him, spine and knees and neck popping wetly as he got back in motion. His voice felt a little out of breath though his lungs felt fuller than ever.

 “You look like you went a few rounds with a sex machine.”

 “I guess we’re the only ones this fucked up…”

 “Why so worked up, Ethan?”

 “Maybe because I got enough of that sweet ass bending around right in front of me.” He shot back, the bite in his words joking and friendly. Seeing Alex clam up then, jaw snapping shut almost audibly, made Ethan taste regret around the salty, musky stench of sweaty bodies and tangy alcoholic fumes. He shouldn’t have expected a pat on the back, though were the circumstances different, he would have.

 All the progress went to shit then. It was no surprise.

 

 They nearly got caught smoking the joint in the back room so they opted for smoking up Danny’s car under the thick shadows of Turner’s grey façade. Ronny tried to smooth-talk Lindsey into blowing him with a bat of his lashes, and in turn, she leaned her pretty head deceitfully down before reaching out to pinch his nipple hard enough to make him oink like a piglet.

 They didn’t talk. The tension between them lingered. And only their eyes would catch each other spying on the other from the front and back seats, and their fingers would touch when they passed the joint along. Brief, sinful, sticky glances to match the mood.

 

 Summer caught them red-handed next time they rolled by Turner’s, seniors in the making and three months anew to have fun before life swept them along for the adult life.

 They didn’t have a gig tonight. The sun was waiting outside for its turn to tug on the night hat for the day, sore eye watching, spying to catch them in an act of misconduct. It was failing.

 Inside Turner’s, without the friction of grinding bodies, the sparks of heat were kept simmering before the rowdier of the patrons came strolling in. None of them, oddly, were high schoolers, like Ethan would’ve guessed. Very little of his peers showed any interest in Turner’s and he was sure that come the full swing of summer most of them would be out by the quarry, drinking around a bonfire of plastic and junk. He had gone to a few of those parties before with Ronny – Ethan had always been a part of the more popular social circle in school, not because he was anything special but because he had good humour – and had decided that it wasn’t his thing. Alex had gone a few times with Eric Erlichman before they were promptly blacklisted and forbidden from nearing the pond of water for reasons Ethan didn’t care to know.

 People like Neil Kasserling, who sat in Ronny’s place beside them for once, stuck to Reyes and Donovan when it came to parties. Judging by the gin he was nursing, of which the only thing so far he seemed to fancy was the lemon slice he kept suckling on, he wasn’t much of a fan of that particular type of scene. Ethan noticed him primarily for the way his thin lips kept digging into the meat of the sour fruit, his eyes dreamily studying the screen of his phone. Kasserling wasn’t an attractive guy by any standards, especially Helen Knightley’s, but he was a fun guy. Fun when drunk. Otherwise, the fairly local dicks had dubbed him _that one quirky Jew kid_. Funny, because the Kasserlings weren’t Jewish.

 “And I heard something about that dumb new car Preston’s getting,” sounded Eric Erlichman’s voice, distant but clear, the nuisance of a cold muffling the words, “Like if it’s a beast like Broncs’, I don’t really need another one of those taking my spot in the lot every morning.”

 “It’s a Caddy?” Alex asked. An unlit cigarette hung between his lips and Ethan felt the urge to tug it out, for the sake of a playful joke. He didn’t dare. He didn’t dare a lot of shit lately with Alex, where a month before, he wouldn’t have cared. Ethan didn’t care about a lot of stuff, that’s why his friends, the ones who stuck around, liked him. Frankly, Ethan had very little qualities for people to like.

 “Nah,” Eric said, snapping a lighter to light his own cig, “It’s supposed to be some pretty Honda. His daddy got it for him from out of state, they even had to change the plates. That’s what he’s bragging about anyway. Well, it ain’t nothing like my old Camaro, probably…”

 “I don’t really care about cars.” Ethan found himself admitting, swallowing down the dry tone with a gulp of something cheap and bitter. He would’ve used a beer, so why did he never get that at Turner’s? “I don’t know, man, I’m just not interested in caring for one.”

 “That so?” Alex quirked a brow and Ethan’s eyes found his. There was something lurking there, quizzical and searching. Ethan felt like some criminal stuck in court, in his own happy place.

 “What?” He snapped, “Do _you_ know shit about cars, tough guy? Huh, do you?! You seem pretty interested, since when?”

 “Okay, okay…!” Alex backpedalled, looking for more solid ground to plant his feet on. His arms came up in defence, and maybe Ethan did look like he was going to jump him dared he say something else. “Fuck, Christ…I don’t care.”

 Ethan ached to say something more but they were already making a scene; he finished his drink instead, blood instantly rushing to fill his cheeks. He was mad, bursting even, the kind of mad he’d seen in the jerks who started fights behind the school. And the sole problem was Alex.

 Sometimes, Ethan would feel him watching, studying even every word of his or every gesture, following him like some alien. Many times he’d feel the urge to say he was no science experiment, only gay, and for Alex maybe those were synonyms. Ethan wasn’t sure just what he was waiting to see but he knew it hadn’t been _that_ bad; Alex had been a bit more secretive with his ogling, now it made his skin crawl whenever they were near. Was he waiting to see if Ethan would swing his hips when he walked? Or if he was secretly wearing makeup and lingerie? Because Alex couldn’t tell engine from ignition but he went white the moment Ethan said he didn’t like cars, as if that was what made up half and more of the masculine brain process.

 If that was the case, cars and hormones, then Ethan wasn’t jealous. Though, he wasn’t that far behind in terms of hormonal decisions. Sure, his interest might have been directed to the abs and pecks rather than to the pair of pillows girls filled their bras with and, yeah, anyone was welcome to slap the FAG tag on him – as long as they were okay with losing a pair of teeth or balls, or both, first. Ethan really didn’t care.

 And he would’ve kept on not caring, like an ostrich with its head in the damn sand, if Alex could stop caring too. Just as he was waiting to catch Ethan giving some John head behind Turner’s, Ethan too was waiting for the closest thing to a homophobic slur to come out of his mouth to punch him.

 The group had fallen silent to observe them, and even Neil had ceased that horrible sucking at the now dry lemon – was he fucking pretending it was a girl’s tit, or what, Ethan would think in his irritation – before Lindsey Logan cleared her throat and nudged Eric.

 “So,” she said, “how’re things with Valerie going? You talked your gentleman way into her pants yet or what?”

 “It’s not like that with Val,” Erlichman mumbled, shifting around in his seat. He was being bashful, something he wasn’t known for being, ever, not just on occasion. That was a sure sign that things with the girl had to be serious on his part, and the soon to be sophomore wasn’t just playing hard to get, she _was_ a challenge already. “She’s not like that. She’s not like you.”

 “Careful, she’ll bite your nipple off!” Alex warned. It was clear he wasn’t that into a mood to be funny, though Lindsey and Eric laughed. His eyes were stuck on his phone now, much like Neil’s, who laughed a bit too before slurping suddenly around the drained lemon.

 “Dude,” Ethan exclaimed, “can you seriously stop that, it sounds like you’re sucking someone’s dick off!”

 “Dude!” Alex shouted suddenly, his hand closing around Ethan’s shoulder. It was the most physical contact they had had in a very long while and while he hadn’t quite forgotten what it felt like to have Alex all over him, it left Ethan surprised. “ _Dude_ , fucking look at this right now! Jesus Christ…”

 “What, _what_?”

 They leaned into Alex to get a better view at his phone and what he had to show Ethan that was so important. His hand would grasp his shoulder, then his fingers would relax enough for Ethan to feel their tremors over his skin before clamping down again.

 “What is it?” Neil asked, finally dropping his exhausted lemon slice. “What, _what_ , what happened, guys?”

 “Fucking Siedle,” Alex gasped, “what the fuck did he _do_?”

 He thrust the phone Ethan’s way so he could see better the opened chat he had with Mr Siedle. Their most recent conversation, starting with a video of them performing live a few weeks back, the night Ethan and Alex had left the stage looking like they had just finished fucking there, the night when Alex broke all hearts with his emotional cover of _Young and a Menace_.

 “Jesus,” they all heard Neil Kasserling gasp, “Alex, you have a really good voice. I never knew you could sing like that…”

 “Yeah, I’m the new John Lennon,” Alex said, his voice a distant mumble.

 Ethan’s eyes skimmed through their conversation, the green bubbles merging into one giant splotch. All he could really catch were some pretty fancy words to name a rock fest and a vacation to the beach, and that stripped down, without all the extras.

 “Siedle signed us up for some rock show,” Alex explained for the rest, “Apparently, we’re approved. He sent them, well, some commission or whatever, the vid. Probably the organisers.”

 “It’s a rock fest, dude.” Ethan said, “A rock fest, in Santa Cruz.”

 “Fuck!” Eric exclaimed, awe in his voice. “Damn, that’s awesome, guys…!”

 “He said he went one year before with some of his first students and that it was fun…” Alex trailed off, unsure and stubbornly sceptical. He threw Ethan a look, his hand still resting over his shoulder, palm leaving a damp spot on the black denim of his vest, “Keep in mind, this ain’t no gig here,” he looked around for emphasis, “this is a serious show with serious people and a crowd that knows their stuff. Siedle’s trying to convince me there are primarily school bands that aren’t any better than us, but…”

 “What are you talking about?” Ethan laughed. “No better than us? We’re probably the best there can be! And what do you mean a serious show? So we don’t make serious music just ‘cause we’re some dudes from a small town? We’re bosses at what we do, you know that!”

 The drums were the only thing he had ever been confident about and now even more so than ever, Ethan was sure that wherever they had to play and whatever the crowd was, they could make a worth-it show.

 “This is just rock, Decker.” Lindsey piped up. “You can do that, better than most people I know. If Siedle says you can do it and you can do it right, then nothing’s stopping you from going over there, enjoy a bit of the sun, the beach…It’s not like you’re gonna be playing at an Ariana Grande concert.”

 “Hey,” Ethan said, “I don’t want to hear a bad word about Ari, alright? She was my first big crush.”

 Alex gave him a side-way glance, brows raised. Maybe he was looking for a confirmation that Ethan was fooling everybody or was trying to tell if maybe, really, there had been a time when he had actually been straight. They both knew Ethan was just playing, though he did support Ari and her music. His heart, unfortunately, had belonged to Freddy Mercury ever since he was eleven and old enough to raise a flag.

 “How are we even gonna get there?” Alex kept worrying.

 “Siedle can drive.” Lindsey shrugged. “It’s just the four of you guys, you can fit in one car.”

 “The _four_ of us?”

 “What?” She said. “I’m not part of this thing. You guys are the band.”

 “Look, if Mr Siedle’s gotten us approved,” Ethan tried, “then he knows what he’s doing, he knows we can do this and it’s just up to you to say if we’re going or not. All I’m gonna say is that I know we can throw a mean party. I really wanna do this, Alex. This is our chance to get out of Enfield, to get out of _here_. Why not take it?”

 “This is fucking Santa Cruz…”

 “That’s your fucking future, boy. Since when are you this careful with the shit you do? You’re the gutsiest guy I know, didn’t you throw a punch at Dereck Chas.”

 Dereck had thrown a mean punch back after that, far better than Alex’s poor attempt, but that didn’t need to be said right now.

 Alex bit his lip, hesitant but also very up for the idea of some travel, some adventure, something out of good old Enfield. It was cliché, sounded too much like a High School Musical scenario or any other of those teen dramas. That’s what the rational part of his brain was screaming, the childish one, the naïve one, had other ideas.

 And really, the uncertainty of such a trip wasn’t even the worst part. Sharing the experience with Ethan, close to him for what Siedle said wouldn’t be longer than a few days, or at least closer than they were now…That’s what made him itchy, giddy, kind of bad but too good, too. Made him feel excited, in a warm, drunken way.

 It wasn’t the rational part he followed in the end, and that’s just why Alex Decker _was_ one gutsy guy.

 He slapped a hand on the counter, solidifying the final decision, before waving the bartender over.

 “Five shots over here,” Alex yelled, earning a round of cheers and whistles, “we have a pretty good thing to celebrate!”

 Tentative fingers came around his wrist; his eyes flickered up, the playful flame of happiness there simmering down, dying away like a candle that’s been blown out. Alex hadn’t moved his hand away from Ethan’s shoulder. And Ethan hadn’t meant to pull it away, only to share the adrenaline, the warmth and buzz of excitement in a way that a pat on the back wouldn’t do. He hadn’t meant anything intimate or dirty, or God forbid _suggestive_.

 The speed with which Alex took his hand away and stuffed it between his thighs was enough to make Ethan feel embarrassed of himself for _nothing_. If he had done that a month ago, he couldn’t help but think, Alex would’ve smiled at him.

 “I gotta…go take a leak.” He muttered, to no one in particular, before sliding off the bar stool.

 “I still can’t get over that you’re approved for something like this,” he overheard Lindsey gush, “This is big shit, Alex! I never even know a show like that even existed, Siedle really knows his stuff.”

 “Kudos to the best teacher around, I guess.”

 Ethan felt his eyes following him through the dance floor out back to the toilets, shy but incessant. What did he even want, what did he expect to find out through those quiet observations? A double life? A dirty side that was a completely different Ethan? Was he that dumb or that sheltered, because Ethan certainly couldn’t tell anymore what Alex’s problem was.

 He thought of waving his ass around like a girl, thought of mimicking Helen Knightley or Cindy Byers, but that wouldn’t prove anything, it would make him feel even worse.

 

 The guy had a girl between his thighs, a sleazy grin plastered over a face covered in stubble, yellow teeth made darker by the lights above the row of sinks. When Ethan stepped through the door, those leathery lips stretched around an unlit cigarette, predatory and sick. The girl never stopped working away.

 “You want a go later?” The guy asked him, words sounding like a handful of pebbles rolling down a cliff. It made Ethan’s mouth go dry, body tighten with the spark of fear; a part of him screamed _gross_ , _disgusting_ , _wrong_ – the other wondered what would be like in the woman’s place.

 But the latter didn’t stay for long. Good riddance.

 He had felt about ready to vomit the moment the guy spoke and his stomach was still tight and aching when he finally found the strength to wobble out through the door again. There wasn’t a single drop of blood to add colour to his face; only a mask of cold sweat.

 

 He punched the first person he found outside not because he didn’t deserve it but because he deserved it _too much_ , and mostly because he ached for a fight. His fist caught him right in the jaw, he felt the ridges of his teeth cut into his skin and it sparked pain bright and tantalizing. The guy fell right over, drunk out of his mind maybe but he wouldn’t have passed out by himself hadn’t Ethan sped up the process.

 The girl he had tried to feel up could do nothing but stare. Then she bolted right past him, before the guy could get back up on his feet and start a scene.

 That couldn’t have happened fast enough. Ethan grabbed him by the shirt, whacked him once more for good measure.

 There was no letting out the steam that was gathering right under the surface of his patience. And Ethan was never a patient kind of guy.

 Maybe that’s why Alex’s lack of acceptance after so long was turning him into such a confused brat. The physical and very real now pain in his right hand couldn’t replace the hurt of rejection, too strong to even turn into the right amount of anger. Really, if Ethan were to get as angry as he felt hurt now, as spiteful, he would be better off dead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hey, guys! Thank you to everybody who's reading and sorry for not posting this earlier, I'm still pretty...Well, I don't consider this overly important and since not many read it I allow myself to be late with the updates. This week will be a bit busy for me, so though chapter 3 is finished, I'll most likely publish it late due to editing. Have fun reading and stay warned, this is not proofread so any mistake you see is kind of due to lazy editing xD There might also be some factual mistakes in there too, like mixed up names and such, but I'll try to clear those out when I get the time. Enjoy, either way, always feel free to stop by my tumblr - @j-fuckin-d - if you want to chat or have questions regarding my work and if you leave comments, be polite!
> 
> Enjoy!

 Out of all the jerks and dicks in Enfield High, the biggest problem Ethan had was with Benning – a withdrawn, shabby kid that ran by himself. He’d piss Ethan off, even though he rarely went to school anymore, and maybe beating on Ethan made him horny, maybe he was just itching to get beat up himself but he always managed to rub him the wrong way.

 It was Benning, who Ethan hadn’t seen since school let out, that nearly ran him over on the corner of Teel and Jackson Lane.

 “Watch where you’re going, sucker!” He yelled, peeking out of the driver’s side window to spit on the sidewalk.

 “Go suck off your dad, asshole!” Ethan spat back as Benning’s beaten car roared off up the street. His heart was hammering in his chest, knees as soft as Jell-O as he pushed his bike towards Danny’s instead of getting back on.

 Danny’s BMW wasn’t in the driveway when he got there, a thin sliver of the hood visible from under the garage door. A few houses down, Scotty Donovan was watering a patch of daisies naked from the waist up, while keeping an eye out for a little blond kid zapping up and down the street like the freaking Flash.

 Ethan dropped his bike carelessly by the side of the house and rang the doorbell. The summer heat made his palms clammy.

 The door opened and Ethan stepped aside to give Danny room when he swooped down to grab at the ball of fluff with needle-thin claws and teeth that nearly escaped past him.

 “What is it?” Danny looks up at him, his face as white as cheese – the result of staying too much in the shade of home – brightened by an ear-to-ear smile. Usually, he’s a friendly guy, but it’s different around Ethan. He makes it look like Ethan’s a god, like he hung the moon and the stars or lit up the sun. And Ethan can’t help but love the positive attention, because Danny’s a _cool guy_ , because he deserves a bit of attention too. Because they both have so much shit going around them and _with_ them that they can almost be soulmates.

 “I’m just gonna say,” he starts, “that you can say everything that ain’t no. Here it comes, Marsboy. Siedle got us a big gig, the end of this month, Santa Cruz. We’re going.”

 True to Ethan’s command, Danny doesn’t say _no_ , exactly.

 “Like fuck we are.”

 “Dee…”

 “Fuck you, Mallory!” Danny exclaimed, face suddenly growing a few shades brighter, like the fucking moon. He dropped the cat wiggling in his hands and nearly kicked the animal back inside when it tried to skedaddle out. “You can’t make such a decision by yourself.”

 “I didn’t. It was me and Alex.”

 “You _and_ Alex can go fuck yourselves. I can’t come.”

 “Why?”

 “ _Because_ …”

 He doesn’t say anything else because he has no solid reason and nowhere to really plant his feet. And he knows that if he looks Ethan in the eye, Ethan will tell, so he doesn’t – his eyes dart left to right for somewhere to land on, no success in sight.

 “Dude, I promise, it’s not just going to be fun, it’ll be a _freakshow_ ,” Ethan promises, feeling Danny’s rising scepticism in the way his lips fall in a frown, and he knows he’ll be dealing with a bucket case like Decker and this one will be far harder to convince. Danny lived for his music but that was hardly the single best thing to ever pull him out of that shell he was cooped up in.

 “Yeah, with Dawson on the road, probably.” He grumbles.

 “Look, I’d appreciate _that_ more if you gave me one good reason not to come.”

 “I don’t know, man…I just…I can’t, my mom won’t…”

 “Dude,” Ethan said, leaning against the doorframe so there was hardly anything else for Danny to concentrate on, “chill, breathe. I’m not here to grill your ass or anything, I’m not gonna be mad if you decide not to come. I ain’t gonna make you, it’s not my thing.”

 “I want to come.”

 “ _Then_?”

 “I can hardly play good on a good night at Turner’s.” Danny spills, finally. And he sounds so damn wrecked, it makes Ethan wince, like he’s pulled a pacifier right out of a baby’s mouth and made it shriek. “I can’t handle shit, I mess up on the regular…And that won’t be here, it won’t be… _our_ crowd. It’ll be big and…and messy and just, what’s the point of me making a fool of myself on stage, in front of a thousand people?”

 “Those people, they don’t know you though,” Ethan reassures him, after giving him a moment to his own, to feel a bit ashamed. He knows it’ll help. “We’re nobodies there, man. We go, we do what we do, and we’re out. For all they care, you might never show your face there, that’s like what? A few miles out of San Francisco? That’s _light years_ away from _this_ shithole! You don’t gotta be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of anyone who matters. What happens in Sa-…”

 “It’s _not_ just that,” Danny stressed. “It’s _all_ of that…I just…I want to be there and have that but I can’t _make_ myself. And I know you think that thing isn’t real but…”

 “I don’t. I know it’s pretty real and it sucks. But you have control on it.”

 “No, I don’t. I’ve never fucking had.”

 “But you want to go.”

 He could tell well enough by the kicked puppy look Danny was giving him he did, he ached for it.

 “Then just breathe through it and say yes.” Ethan urged him. “Do it for yourself for once, all the other shit can go to hell. We’ll be there, man. _I’ll_ be there, and you’ve got nothing to worry about with me there, alright? Have I ever made you do something you didn’t enjoy in the end? When I asked you to join the band and play with us, did you end up hating it? Look, last year, when we made you play with us at Turner’s, you said no. We didn’t force you. And then you said no when we asked you to play with us last summer on the Hills of Rock fest over in Sacramento, that was fine. But it’ll be awesome if you come with us this year, is all. Grab that anxiety by the balls and pull, man!”

 He turned, too tired to fight through Danny’s resistance.

 “Ethan,” Danny stopped him suddenly, voice meek, “I really gotta ask my mom about this…But you can count me in. I promise.”

 “That’s my boy!” Ethan gushed, pulling Danny down for a hug. His muscles flexed around the awkward, gangly body of his friend. “Thank you, you little, amazing prodigy, you! You little sunny child, you funky little star.”

 He grabbed Dee’s jaw, squishing what little pudge he had on his cheeks with his thumb and forefinger before giving his cheek a soft slap. Ethan couldn’t help but grin; teeth closed around his bottom lip as he watched Danny slump over bashfully, hiding a tender, virginal blush.

 “Just promise you’ll be there, all the time…”

 “I’m not leaving you out of my sight,” Ethan promised, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

 He bent down to grab his bike, telling Danny before he left, “Practice at my place tomorrow at five. Swear you won’t chicken out on us.”

 “I swear.” Danny did, worship in his round eyes as he looked at Ethan.

 The little kid that was still zipping and zapping on the street nearly crashed into him when Ethan got on his bike again. Twice in a day, though he was glad that this time it wasn’t Benning in his shabby car but a little blue-eyed, lisping fella.

 “Eric, dude, I told you to be careful!” Scotty Donovan screamed from down the street, before calling out to Ethan, “Are you okay, man?”

 “Peachy,” he called back, raising a hand to wave. He looked down at Eric, a small kid with scraped knees and a missing tooth, “Race you to the end of the street?”

 “You’ll lose!” The kid promised him confidently.

 “Oh, yeah? You wanna bet?”

 Ethan jumped on the bike and raced after Eric’s significantly smaller one; up and down the street they went, under the bright sun, till it was time to stop, breathe, and light a cig with Scotty while Eric had his PB&J inside the house.

 

 It was the first time he realised Ethan was a fool and what’s more – one wild fucker, that Alex felt fear for him. Because he knew then, a little more than he knows now, that he would get in trouble one day. His big mouth would get him in trouble, his temper would get him in trouble. He knows now as he knew back then, when Ethan had jumped over one of the round tables on his wild run for the stage where he had sat, rocking his feet.

 “Are you feeling okay, dude?” Alex had asked, the urgent need to speak turning his words into a mumble.

 “Yeah, why?” Ethan had said, breathless as he had folded his arms up on the edge of the stage, staring up at him with the brightness of a star.

 And Alex had wondered, why would he ask? Maybe because of the blood dotting the front of Ethan’s shirt, the thin film of red he kept trying to lick off from the front of his teeth, smeared where the droplets were budding under his nostril? Maybe because of the shiner framing his right eye? No, Alex didn’t really know why he would ever ask if Ethan was doing good when he so obviously wasn’t – contrary to the energy raging in his restless body.

 Ethan didn’t want to talk about it. And Alex didn’t force him, he made his music instead and kept his eyes locked on those bloodied knuckles.

 “I’m in the best mood imaginable right now, Alex,” Ethan said, the muscles in his arms straining as he lifted himself up on the stage. “Let’s fucking play something, man! Come on! Hey, Frankie,” he called at the bartender, “don’t mind us, we won’t be loud!”

 “Dude, what’s up with you?” Alex gasped, fighting the urge to laugh. “What the fuck did you take? You’re on something, right? What did you take?! Was it poppers, other shit…?”

 “Only my love for you tonight, buddy, and my leather jacket! Go on, play something. Come on, man, don’t be like that, play something!”

 Alex knew there were many things wrong with Ethan; bad things and good things. The number of the former outdid the latter by many, though it wasn’t his place to judge, he was only worried. Worried of Ethan opening his mouth and saying the wrong thing, of him doing the wrong shit and getting it handed to him. Because he was as dumb as he was a genius, more words than he was actually actions in the wrong times. He was a firecracker and a dick with too much foul humour.

 And Alex had known all of that and he had fallen in love with it then, no more than a month before Ethan told him he was into guys. And now, when Ethan was the same, when he was still a jackass, a prick with a denim vest and a passion, it was a dangerous problem. He couldn’t tell why, couldn’t explain it to himself how he could’ve been fooled, as if Ethan was guilty, again, for _tricking_ him, for _hiding_ himself. Considering everything, maybe he had done it right.

 They were in the basement, closer than the days before, breathing the same air. And his teeth hurt, coated in melted sugar and something fake but tasty with every marshmallow he stuffed in his mouth. Ethan was eating too, after finishing off a sandwich with the ease of a man in the state of constant hunger, he had settled for crackers – the bag perched somewhere just in reach where it really wouldn’t bother his playing. Drums made nice shelves, he had said, proceeding to stuff another cracker past his lips without ever losing rhythm.

 The Mallorys weren’t home and in a few minutes, Danny and Ronny would be down there with them, messing up the calm. Because when they didn’t talk, when they didn’t have to necessarily _interact_ , things were fine. Alex would be tuning his guitar and Ethan would be studying the posters covering the otherwise naked and plain walls – naked women and a variety of favourite bands – without much interest. Then they’d play something short for each other, something slow without spice or fire to bask in the joy of comfort. Even they needed that sometimes and even they needed to slow down.

 And Alex thought that things could be this easy all the time, only they weren’t. They wouldn’t be anymore. Because Ethan was fucking queer, and Alex was a wreck to know that and to think of all those times and innuendos. It would’ve been better if it all really was one big joke to get the ugly girls off his back but Ethan had been honest and it only fucked with Alex at night to know that _his_ friend was like that.

 “Do you think we can do this?” Alex asked him, clearing his throat. He wasn’t fully against the silence and it was comfortable for once, but words were good too and it seemed like they had way too much to talk about. “I mean, this whole concert thing?”

 “Do you remember last year,” Ethan said, “at Sacramento? At the fest? I think we pretty much rocked back there. And it’ll be the same this time, just a bit farther. It’ll be fun, we’ll get to know new people, maybe even get to see a band we know? How about that? It’ll be awesome.”

 “People will be satisfied with covers?”

 “Dude, people _love_ covers. Ever heard of Punk Goes Pop?”

 Alex chuckled, a tiny, concealed noise. “Maybe we’ll manage.”

 “There’s no maybe. We sure as hell will, not manage – nail it.”

 “Is this what you want to do?” Alex probed. “All your life?”

 Ethan didn’t even blink before replying, his tone nonchalant but words meaningful and certain, “If it’s music you mean, then definitely. There’s nothing else for me than that. God said so.”

 “And,” he shifted in the bean bag to face him better, “you know, out of all of us, you’re probably the only one who’s really gonna make it. Ronny’s good but he doesn’t care about that, and Dee’s the best, seriously, but he won’t be making a career any time soon. You on the other hand really _can_ do this, Ethan. I’m not lying.”

 “And you?” Ethan said. “You’ve got the guts, got the voice. Music Idol, or America’s got talent and all that jazz…You could give it a shot, like, James Arthur did it.”

 Alex bit his lip, ran his fingers along the thin strings to feel them dig into his calloused skin.

 “It’s not about me.”

 “Isn’t it? Because I think you’re all for the music too.”

 “Did God say so too?”

 “I said so.” Ethan doesn’t smile when he says, “And that’s better.”

 His laugh was genuine, and it made Ethan drop the serious act and laugh too. It was their first time laughing since…It felt like forever. And it was relieving, like a nice shower after a long day. Filled them with fulfilment and glee.

 “I really want to make it to Hollywood,” Ethan told him when the cheerful ring died down. “I can do that. I can play.”

 “I’m sure you can do it,” Alex replied, head rolling back to stare at the ceiling. “You were born a fucking star man. I mean it.”

 Their eyes caught each other peeking at the other, intensity weighing them down.

 “Let’s just play something,” Ethan said, hand digging in the bag of salted crackers, “Anything. Quit tuning that guitar already.”

 “You quit stuffing yourself.”

 “Don’t tell me what to do.”

 Alex smiled, “I don’t know what to play.”

 “Start something, I’ll follow.”

 Alex wasn’t that good at following the beat of the moment. He couldn’t feel the music right when he was out of it; no song came to mind which he both knew how to play and knew Ethan could join in on. But Ethan knew how to play any song, new or old, cover or original, he didn’t have to have sheets of notes in front of him, didn’t even have to hear it first to get it right on the first try. That was just Ethan, and he was just talented. Getting to the very point of that spiritual gift was a pointless effort – he just knew how to breathe in the music and turn it into an experience.

 “ _Love me, love me_ ,” Alex sang, tongue running through dry lips before carefully continuing, “ _say that you love me_ …”

 “ _Fool me, fool me_ ,” Ethan threw in, voice smooth enough to surprise even Alex who hadn’t heard a word gentler than a profanity leave his mouth.

 He looked at him, puzzled, to meet the bold grin crossing Ethan’s face, revealing crooked teeth.

 “What _was_ that?” Alex laughed. “Jesus, Ethan, where’ve you been hiding _that_ voice all this time?”

 “I told you I was good at multitasking.” Ethan winked, clearing his throat. “Now, I guess that’s all of this sexy voice you’ll have the privilege of hearing, buddy. These angelic chords can only take so much. Go on, I got you.”

 His palms became suddenly clammy, fingers sliding across the sides of the guitar and trembling over the strings while Alex caught his breath. He swallowed down the goofy smile, let his legs stretch under him as if his knees had gone too soft to hold their position.

 “ _Go on and fool me_ ,” he sang on, braver, the words and sound coming out sweeter and smoother than they had when he had sung _Young and a Menace_ at Turner’s, “ _Love me love me, pretend that you love me. Leave me leave me, just say that you need me…I can't care 'bout anything but you_.”

 The words rolled off his tongue sweetly, with an unhidden edge to the melting serenity. The ceiling, the colours of the walls swam before him, and it felt like he was inhaling poison. To that slow suicide, Ethan was a helpful, too helpful and willing, accomplice. He played his drums, one-handed, and in tune like a pro and without a care – his smile revealed it all, the hopes and love of a friend.

 And Alex smiled, skin aflame and head in the clouds. They had just made fucking music, and the angels had sung along.

 “Hey, Justin Bieber!” Ethan laughed, and not only was the atmosphere of bliss and near post-coital afterglow ruined, it was rebuilt to what put Alex into far greater pleasure and comfort, warmth and the shoulder of a friend to hold as they laughed. “What the fuck, dude, how ‘bout you go make a serenade under Cindy Byers’ window?!”

 “What the fuck, no! _Cindy_?”

 “Why? She not your type?”

 “I don’t have a type…” Alex denied, feeling the muscles of his stomach ache as he rolled about on the floor in his giddy fit of laughter and chuckles. “Or even if I _had_ , it wouldn’t be _Cindy_ , God…”

 “Why not? Heard she was a pro at giving head or something like that.”

 “Do I look like the kind of guy that would date a girl for the _blowjobs_?”

 “Dunno, _are_ you that type of guy?”

 “ _No_!”

 “What is your type then, really?” Ethan repeated. “Come on, every guy has a type. Someone like Helen Knightly, or Lauren Nemec? Or a cutie like that Rachel girl? Or maybe you’d be into funky little bitches like Joyce Snyder…”

 “Shut it, Romeo.” Alex snapped, throwing a marshmallow at Ethan. “Not even gonna ask about your type.”

 “Yeah? ‘Cus I like ‘em buff, you know, chest hair and all that jazz. Preferably bald with breath reeking of garlic and tequila.”

 Alex wheezed, far too gone with the winds to care about just what Ethan was telling him. And in that moment he wasn’t even listening or letting himself comprehend and the words to sink in, it didn’t matter. Because it was all a joke, God bless, and they were laughing with each other, boneless and carefree.

 “You’re unbelievable…” Alex gasped, sounding more as if he was honestly sobbing. His belly ached, it was a good pain.

 “Yeah,” Ethan said, quiet and easy, easy like their mood and easy like them, “I know that.”

 Again that pointed, fucked-out look that screamed _Come and get me!_ , as if they’d jump at each other, to hug or to hurt, either would be a fine deal.

 Then the basement door opened, shocking both out of their dissociated lover’s gazing just as Alex had been about to propose they play _Bleeding Love_ next. Whatever had gone between them was broken, stepped on, swallowed and spat out like tasteless gum when Danny stepped through the door. His kitten steps had never seemed louder.

 “There was nobody home so I let myself in,” he said. His casualty was undeterred by the unmistakable atmosphere he had just stumbled on, though Danny had always been rather uncaring where the notion of privacy was concerned.

 As if he had been there all along to see what they had been up to, Alex shrunk back into the bean bag, frown weighing down the tips of his lips. The good times were done for, and now it was Ethan’s fault again, for getting to make him laugh, for getting to make him enjoy their company more than he ought to.

 But, no, it wasn’t Ethan’s fault. It was all Alex. And the worst pain came from the knowledge that Ethan could see the change in him, that he could feel it, and Alex was having a blast making him hurt.

 The last one was a lie. He loved hurting himself far more.

 

 The morning they hit the road was humid and full of promise; and awkward tension, the kind you got between exes after a drunken, accidental one-night stand.

 A stream of chilled air stroked through Alex’s hair, like icy razors, as he sat in the back of Danny’s BMW, eyes stuck to the wide road ahead. Momentarily, the view is blocked by a speeding truck. Then the sun blinds his eyes and he lets his eyelids drop heavily down. It’s early morning, his mouth tastes still of toothpaste and mint.

 Ronny sat in the front seat beside Danny, who kept a cautious foot on the breaks. He drove slowly, keeping both eyes on the back of Mr Siedle’s car where their instruments were stacked. The radio blared Zeppelin and AC/DC for a few minutes before the end of the disc; the same songs came coming on repeat, fingers taped along the wheel and the side of the doors, hands perched lazily over the side of the opened windows.

 “Hey,” Ethan perked up suddenly when Ronny turned on the radio next. Instantly, the shittiest of generic pop spilt out through the speakers. “That one’s…”

 He doesn’t even have time to finish and so he trails off awkwardly as Ronny changes the station. Disappointment hid in plain sight, crossing Ethan’s face like a gash as he frowns.

 Alex followed his reactions closely, eyes barely cracked open. They sat on opposite sides of the back seat, only because Ronny had jumped at the chance to ride shotgun. There was peace between them all, no words were shared because that would only make them think – right now that was not what they ought to be doing, all the thinking had been done some other time, before.

 Before shit hit the fan, before they hit the road.

 Ethan’s enthusiasm faltered, teeth grazed the top of his lip as he settled further into the corner of the seat; Alex could almost convince himself that he’s always acted like that, careful, feminine. That wasn’t the wholesome truth and he knew it, deep down, but out of spite, he fooled himself.

 “What did you want?” He asked him, voice muffled by some radio programme, letting them know of the latest news or fashion report. Ethan threw him a glance, awfully shy in its short and hurried nature. “The music…Was it something you wanted to listen to?”

 Ethan’s bony shoulders rose quickly, stiffly. He didn’t feel like uttering a word, ever since they had met that morning at the school to gather up.

 He smiled, just as bashfully, “I like what I like. Girly pop included…”

 His voice was hushed, shameful. And Alex couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for him, because he was part of the reason why every word, every action of Ethan’s had to hide behind the thick wall of reservation. That wasn’t, never had to be, the Ethan they all loved.

 But he couldn’t help but make it so, couldn’t help but want it so. Ethan would stay away that way, it could be better for both of them.

 Only Alex couldn’t quite handle staying away from him that well and it was that messed up; things couldn’t be easy anymore.

 He takes out his phone and earbuds, passes one over to Ethan and even slides in closer to him, into his space, so when they breathe, they feel their scent. Honey on mint.

 “What do you want to listen to?” Alex asks, “I’ll play it. We can listen together.”

 And for a while, before Ronny changes stations to something acceptable, they sit leaning into each other, listening to Ariana Grande, and Lady Gaga, and Leona Lewis.

 

 They made their first stop by late noon; the sun was a bare white dot leaking heinous warmth over them. In the distance, from the rolling hills came the choking, clingy stench of dust and stale air.

 Alex missed the sign welcoming them into Santa Cruz. When he opened his eyes again, the sun had gone down, the lights of the building they had parked by struck him oddly like those of a circus, or a whore house. White and pink lined a sign reading _Pacific_ , in curly lettering. Ethan stood by the opened door, peeking inside and waiting.

 “We’re here.” He said, when he knew Alex was finally paying attention. Behind him, there was muffled chatter, interrupted only by Ronny’s sudden burst of laughter.

 The sky behind Ethan was maroon; the lights of the hotel made his face appear white, standing out with a ghostly glow. Alex stretched first, feeling his limbs come back to life with the horrible dull ache of static zapping under the surface of his skin.

 “Is this it?” He asked, disgruntled, as he took in his surroundings – a dull parking lot and a crowded hotel, people dashing in and out through a set of glass doors. A pair of palm trees marked the exit of the lot where it merged into the street, a wide avenue and well-lit. The leaves rustled under the caress of the late evening wind; contrary to the aroma of fruits and rot in Enfield, so close to the ocean Alex could feel his skin prickling as a thin layer of sweat and sea salt formed along his naked arms and sun-warmed neck.

 “Better than Enfield.” Ethan said. It wasn’t just what Alex was thinking, though maybe he was a bit too tired to care for anything but dinner and a bed to lay down on. “Come on, I’ll show you these awesome guys,” Ethan urged, his enthusiasm great, “I’m getting cool vibes from the locals. _Way_ better than Enfield.”

 Two strangers, about their age, stood by talking with Mr Siedle and Ronny while Danny stood lingering, following a conversation he couldn’t quite find a spot to enter in.

 “And the opening show will be after dinner,” the more talkative of the two was saying, “it’ll be late but rewarding. We took part in the organisation ourselves this year.”

 “Alex Decker.” Alex interrupted, his tone bold and uncaring as he introduced himself. “Sorry if I…missed out, on most of the conversation. You don’t need to repeat yourself.”

 The other part of the duo, the more reserved and feeling of the two, only eyed him once; the boss of them who had been explaining how things were to Siedle looked at him for a longer time, judging, puffing out his chest like a wild bird asserting itself to the competition.

 “Nate,” he introduced finally, thrusting a hand in his direction. Alex shook it numbly. “This here’s Robbie, Robbie Ewing. We’re here to make sure you know how things are and feel at home. You’re the last guys to come. So, welcome to Santa Cruz.”

 “Peachy.”

 “Dude,” Ethan laughed, while they were both striding towards the hotel doors after the hostile exchange, “what was _that_?”

 “I’m sweating like a devil in hell, man,” Alex huffed, “and _that_ guy’s wearing a _leather_ jacket. I don’t trust guys like that.”

 “I think you’re just jealous.” Ethan teased.

 “Of what? Some seaside macho? Grow up.”

 He glanced at Ethan – the boy had a knowing look, his expression smug and cocky, like that of a pinup girl. He was an inch or two shorter than Alex and still, it seemed like he was looking down on him.

 “We don’t have a lot of time for anything, guys,” Mr Siedle said when he caught up to them in the lobby. A busty blonde stood behind the reception desk and took in their IDs when they slapped them over the counter. “Go drop off your things, change, and be down for dinner in half an hour. Keep in mind the night will be long so no,” he lowered his voice, “no drinks or shady stuff allowed. Don’t embarrass me.”

 They sealed the promise with a few quiet nods, though all of them, _even_ Danny, knew well that they would be breaking it very soon. Not necessarily to spite Mr Siedle but because they _couldn’t_ promise they would behave.

 “Room 302, Dawson and Marsden.” The receptionist announced, throwing down a single key on a yellow plastic keychain. “Mr Bill Siedle, room 304. 402, Decker and Miller.”

 “Mallory,” Ethan corrected, throat feeling as though it were stuffed with paper, “ma’am. It’s Mallory.”

 He looked up at Alex, meeting an unreadable expression and silence, “We can swap, it doesn’t have to be like this. I can just switch with Dee and…”

 “I don’t want to change rooms,” Alex said. His voice was rough but not angry.

 “It’s really no big deal, I can…”

 “It’s fine! I _don’t_ want to change rooms!”

 The voice of the receptionist sounded unfazed and striking in the sudden silence the thunder of Alex’s voice had brought on between them:

 “We serve snacks,” she said, pushing towards them a white plate of stale bakes, “Cookies?”

 

 With its remarkable façade, it was hard to believe that the Pacific’s sizes were as humble as they appeared on the inside. The hotel was build side by side to a larger establishment which would fool its clients that it was far larger than it was in truth. It was merely four storeys tall and the rooms although well-kept and clean were furnished only with beds, a dresser and a TV. Ethan and Alex had a nice view out to the street through a small balcony to boot.

 “Do you think we’ll have time to shower?” Alex asked as they strolled through the door. The room wasn’t much to look at so instead of gushing over it like a pre-schooler on a field trip, he threw aside his backpack and sack and jumped atop the soft mattress of the bed closer to the balcony.

 “Not a chance,” Ethan said, making a turn for the bathroom. It was a tight little room with only a shower cabin in the corner and white sink but with enough clean towels to last them. He looked himself in the little mirror above the sink, ran his fingers through his hair to smoothen out all the stray bits and took a moment to admire the cherry pink flush of his cheeks where the sun had licked his skin.

 “Have you ever seen anything hotter? Nope, you sure haven’t, sweetums,” He spoke absently to his reflection, before looking down at the tiny soaps and shower gels in their shiny silver packs. They looked like condoms. “Just wash up a bit, dude, and make sure to change,” Ethan called over to Alex.

 He slid off his sweat-drenched tee shirt, feeling the damp cotton peeling off of his back – the chill of the bathroom made his skin prickle with goosebumps.

 Ethan was by no means the most athletic guy around, he was no Mark Fuller, didn’t do sports and wasn’t that interested in spending his time in the gym. Alex would give him a solid five out of ten compared to the image of masculinity the Enfield high school hicks tried to present. Still, when he got out of bed and came to stand in the bathroom doorway to wait for his turn, Alex couldn’t help but notice just how far from feminine Ethan really was. Sure, he wasn’t muscular but he was flat enough to show a bit of the taut muscles under the skin, just barely coloured golden. Drops of cold water rolled down his neck, dripped onto the front of his jeans, when he splashed his face and torso to wash off the sheen of dried sweat.

 “Okay, get over with it, you queen.” Alex snapped when Ethan began to take a little too long ogling himself in the mirror. “There’s a fucking line here.”

 Alex took off his own sweaty shirt, half-expecting Ethan to throw him a look. He didn’t, didn’t even glance. It wasn’t their first time undressing in front of the other but it was the first time since Alex knew Ethan could peek and judge. But nothing like that happened, in fact, perhaps it had been Alex who took a bit too long studying what he had previously paid no attention to instead of it being the other way around.

 He hoped the cold water would make the ugly flush that suddenly coloured his cheeks go away quicker.

 “You know what,” Ethan said as he threw on a clean shirt, “I’m really looking forward to tonight.”

 “Yeah? And I feel like roadkill.”

 “I’m serious. You were asleep for it but Nate and Rob, those guys, they say the stage is big and that the opening show will be very awesome. A lot of people will be there, really cool bands will be playing, some local and some up and coming stars, you know. Nate said they were gonna play too.”

 “Who was Nate again?”

 “The guy with the leather jacket.”

 “Oh, yeah,” Alex said, “that douchebag. Anything else he said?”

 “That it’s a cool thing, this fest thing. There are a bunch of high school bands, most of them are even staying at the hotel here! We can make friends, throw a party…”

 “And Nate and Rodney?”

 “ _Robbie_. They’re locals. They go home after the show. Maybe. But that’s cool, ‘cus, they can show us around tomorrow. Nate said there’re a bunch of awesome places here.”

 “As awesome as his mom’s cunt, maybe?”

 Ethan barked a laugh, loud and cheery. Alex listened to it bounce off the walls until the sound of the TV buried it.

 Dinner was rushed and boring, the food was rather cold and tasteless, fitting the general setting of the hotel. The restaurant was packed, this late into the evening, and from time to time Ronny would point out to them the competition – teens who the boys had no way of knowing but Ronny had been deep into conversations with Nate over who played how, who played what and so on. He was fitting in, making friends, which further solidified Alex’s expectations that the rest of their peers were most likely douchebags with egos over the roof but no actual package to show for it.

 One of their self-proclaimed rivals came running towards them after dinner while they were all piling into the parking lot, ready to go. Mr Siedle was instructing Danny to drive right behind his old Camaro and be careful not to lose him out of sight so they wouldn’t get lost.

 The guy unlike Nate was more on the lean side but bore a surprisingly similar expression – that of a Tom that’s just got his Jerry. Sharp-nosed and freckled, the shades the guy wore made him seem like an elaborate mugger.

 “We never got to meet properly,” the guy said, smiling idly as he took off his sunglasses. They were the exact same as Ethan’s, part of the reason why, just like before with him and Nate, Alex now felt the sudden chill of hostility lingering around him like ice fumes. “My name is Jerry Day, me, the guys and lady over there,” and he pointed in the direction of two other boys rather bland in their appearance and a dainty, tanned young cherry, “will be playing tonight. It’s exciting to meet new people, because we’ve kinda been the same bands since about a year or two now.”

 “Jerry Day, huh,” Ethan said, “Why not Jerry Night?”

 The fellow named Jerry gave a hooting laugh, his joy greatly overreacted. He threw one long arm around Ethan’s shoulders, a gesture that was not taken with the same amount of friendliness as it held.

 “What a guy!” Jerry exclaimed. “You’re something, huh?”

 “They say so.”

 They introduced themselves quickly before they, and Jerry Day, were called to go by impatient teachers and guardians.

 “Why the fuck was he laughing,” Ethan said on their way inside Danny’s BMW, “I wasn’t making a joke, I was making fun of his name.”

 “Ethan, throwing the thick shade.” Ronny joked. “I think he was a chill guy.”

 “You think everybody here’s a chill guy.” Danny pointed out, getting behind the wheel.

 “Because it’s true. Let’s see what show they’ll throw us.”

 The drive was short and uneventful, and unlike the excruciating experience that was the road from Enfield to Santa Cruz, in the backseat all was comfortable. Alex still felt dreadfully drained, the dinner had barely fixed the problem that was his hunger and the need for something sweet and greasy. But the thought of some good music in just a moment, then hopefully the bouncy bed back at the hotel, took his mind off Ethan.

 The street lights bounced off the surface of Ethan’s shades, the reflection in the black surface distorted and liquid-like. In the front, the responsibility of driving down the streets made narrow by the heavy flow of traffic made Danny a rather nervous driver. There was a cluster of cars near the sight of their concert, parked in whatever way they had found most comfortable for themselves – like a badly fitted patchwork or a bad game of Tetris, so fitting the BMW beside them and reasonably close to Mr Siedle’s Camaro was a win. Ronny even promised to take a picture of the skilful way Danny had stuffed the car sideways between two others to show to the overbearing and concern-ridden Mrs Marsden.

 The stage was built by the shore, a massive stretch of damp sand and gentle waves which seemed to go on for miles, though the crowd that had gathered by a few currently unused fair rides and around the crescent-shaped stage appeared to completely consume that space and make it look tight. The lights reflected off the moving waves and turned the people in the pit below the stage into a mass of black – so similar to that at Turner’s, yet gigantic.

 They bumped into Nate and Ewing, the two that had greeted them politely at the Pacific, just as they were smoking by the side of the stage. They greeted them all, as friendly as any good host, and only Nate’s demeanour towards Alex was a bit unlike the way he treated the rest.

 “You guys wanna watch from the stage?” Ewing asked them, stubbing out his cig from the bottom of his shoe. “It’s the best view.”

 “Is that allowed?” Ethan exclaimed, grinning like a kid in front of the tree on Christmas morning. The white stage lights made his round eyes shine, similar to the ghostly glow they gave the waves.

 “Dude, you play with us!” Nate flashed a smile. “You’ve got the _right_ to watch from the stage, it’s the rules.”

 Alex watched, from a distance, as the two shared a cigarette between each other in the minutes before the opening band climbed the stage. Nate and his boys would be playing somewhere in the middle, maybe third. Alex couldn’t help but think of Jerry Day, when he would be playing, how his music sounded, and when he spotted him lingering by the wooden stairs leading from the beach to the back of the stage, he turned to Ewing to ask when they would be on.

 “Oh, they usually close the shows.” He told him, searching the crowd, for someone special. “They’re good but it’s because their teacher writes songs and music so they’ve got a bunch of original stuff.”

 “And you guys?”

 “We play everything. Whatever Nate says.”

 “So Nate’s the boss then?”

 Ewing laughed, “No! He’s the douchebag who makes you listen to whatever they want. And because of his puppy eyes, you can’t say no.”

 Nate whacked him across the shoulder when he heard that accusation but Ewing barely flinched; it was a rather playful gesture. And he seemed preoccupied with the quick approach of someone he had to know, their rapid steps climbing the steps towards them until they all looked in their direction.

 “Robbie!” They were calling. It was a boy, their age, wearing the reddest pair of jeans Alex had seen on a guy. “Rob Ewing, you dick!”

 Ewing stepped in front of them to meet the boy in a tight hug.

 “Hi, birthday boy!” He exclaimed. From the foot of the stairs, Jerry Day and the rest stood watching their friend stick to Ewing like he was a fly to a pot of honey. “What’s up, Percy, haven’t heard from you in ages!”

 “Well, you’re the one who promised to come and visit.”

 “All the way to San Fran…” Ewing trailed off, teasingly almost, and one couldn’t tell if he found Percy’s company annoying or enjoyable.

 “Douchebag.” Percy hissed through his teeth, taking out a cigarette to stuff between grinning lips. “Watch out, watch out, holler if you see someone who knows me coming, right?”

 “I thought you had asthma.”

 “I thought you weren’t my mother.”

 He had just raised the flame to the end of the cigarette, the flame had just licked a sizzling stripe along the tobacco, when a rude hand slapped the roll out of his. The cigarette fell to the damp stairs where it died with a pathetic hiss. Percy watched it for a moment on its way down, eyes as wide as those of an addict, before craning his neck back to look at Jerry Day who had come up behind him.

 “It’s my birthday.” He said.

 “Your lungs don’t take off days on your birthday,” Jerry informed him with indifference. He was no noble villain and in Alex’s eyes he seemed rather cartoonish with the way he made Percy bend over, but his authority over the kid was visible. That didn’t have the same effect with the rest and only Ewing looked away ashamed for letting Percy try to sneak in a smoke despite his problematic health. “Hey, isn’t it the golden boys from Enfield.” Jerry said, eyes lingering on Ethan, “How are you guys doing? Found the place easy?”

 “If somebody says _peachy_ ,” Ronny hissed, leaning forward between Alex and Ethan so only they could hear the warning, “I’m gonna be _really_ pissed. So, _don’t_.”

 They exchanged a few words, few glances, and the ice between most of them melted as they shared cigs and sips of beer from the vendor somewhere down on the beach. Neither Nate nor Jerry were hard to talk to guys, despite Alex and Ethan’s wariness, and their friends weren’t bad either. All of them were wild cards. Alex couldn’t quite decide who he liked most, and it seemed not all of them were there yet, but they were friendly and made it so they, the newbs, felt comfortable and knew how to decipher the inside jokes they shot at each other. They saw in them a challenge and that was good to know; Alex surely felt they were all evenly matched and he usually had a little less confidence.

 “We didn’t meet properly before,” the girl they had noticed with Jerry and his boys outside of the Pacific, said when she climbed the stairs to join them. She stood right beside Alex when she talked and it seemed as though her attention was solely on him, and when she raised a hand, it was for Alex to shake, when she batted her lashed it was for him to notice, “My name’s Ava, Ava Chandler.”

 “Alex Decker.” He said, albeit a bit out of his element. Alex wasn’t the type to be a girls’ favourite in school or out of it and he had never paid it any mind with how busy his days were. This was either an open show of interest on her side or him being awfully frustrated and hormonal, so much so that he was seeing signs were there weren’t any. “You play?”

 “Lead guitar,” Ava bragged. She had a pretty voice, sharp features which made her appear more mature and feminine than any of the girls Alex knew in school, except for a little few. She fit right in with the boys without really needing to bend into a standard. “So what are you thinking of this place so far? Cool, right? Makes you feel like a real star.”

 “Mm, yeah,” Alex nodded, his agreement awkward and uncertain. He wanted to pay attention to the conversation going, maybe listen in to the sound check just before the start of the show, and at the same time, it wouldn’t be very polite to ignore Ava because of that. “Sure, it’s pretty awesome, actually.”

 “Have you played on stage before?”

 “Yeah, plenty of times, back home.”

 “Is Enfield a big town?”

 “As big as one neighbourhood here. But it’s alright.”

 “What room are you in? Back at the hotel.”

 “402,” Alex said, looking down at her. His nonchalance hadn’t been intended but it appeared to make her try even harder to do whatever it was she was doing.

 “That’s awesome, I’m in 306, with Nat Clementi.” She said, as if Alex would care. “Hey, tonight, after the show, what’re your plans?”

 Alex pretended not to hear; he didn’t have any plans in particular except maybe stopping at the first 7/11 to buy a chocolate bar and then pass out in bed as early as he could. He knew what Ava would want instead – to get him to go somewhere, drag him along to some gathering of rowdy and energetic teens. He wasn’t in the mood for that.

 “It’s Percy’s birthday,” Ava said, and, yes, Alex had heard that already, “so he’ll be treating us to weed and alcohol in his room. It’ll be a secret party.”

 The secret though was easily revealed to a few more pairs of ears when Percy made it known that they were all invited, and Alex had no idea how they would all be fitting in a room as tiny as his and Ethan’s but he wasn’t that eager to find out.

 He didn’t have to give a direct answer to Ava’s invitation, thankfully, because just as she opened her mouth to convince him it would be fun, the beginning of the show was wordlessly announced as the stage went suddenly dark.

 They were the only ones on the stairs and under the red projectors that flashed on to the first beats of drums the band on stage looked like a handful of shadows. One of the large speakers was somewhere near them and when the music finally spilt out, Alex felt Ethan startle beside him. He pressed into his side for a moment, body rocked with the beat of his own heart.

 The only thing louder than the music was the crowd, screaming, yelling and spilling beer over themselves in surreal ecstasy. This wasn’t Alex’s first concert and like the few before it, the music made him dizzy, made his stomach swirl and his problems and thoughts fly off south where his blood usually pooled when he got close to the mic, when his hands took the guitar – the closest thing he would ever feel perhaps to holding a girl. Suddenly, he wasn’t even that tired, or he didn’t feel like himself at all. It was dark, then it was a mix of colours and wild sparks flying up in white from the front of the stage with the smell of gun powder, smoke, sweat cloying thickly in the air as it became heated and thick.

 The only thing taking his mind off of the fire erupting around him like in the gutters of hell was Ava Chandler, pressing herself into his side like she had all the right to. Alex really wanted to shake her off. Were it some other girl, some Enfield High hotshot like Helen Knightly or his own personal loves Joyce Snyder and Patty Willis, he wouldn’t have cared. But this girl he didn’t know, and she was far too mature for him, far too out of his reach. It wasn’t what Alex wanted.

 And then on his left though was Ethan; Ethan who wasn’t mature, Ethan who was a dick most of his time and a careless bastard who had no verbal filter whatsoever. Ethan who wasn’t a girl at all but maybe wanted to be one or by some twisted joke of faith had gotten on the wrong side of the gender spectrum. And somehow it was better to have Ethan rubbing on him while they stood pressed tight in the darkened space between the outside of the stage and the back because he _knew_ him, because he would rather have Ethan that just some needy stranger. Because he _wasn’t_ needy, because Ethan was classy in his flirtations and confident in his approach and Alex had seen it so many times before while he had thought that Ethan was as straight as they could get. Turns out, he just knew what girls loved to hear because it was what _he_ would love to hear, because it would get _him_ to drop to his knees – though that was a way Alex would never have imagined Ethan, no, Ethan would be the one making others drop and roll over with a twist of his finger because he _could_.

 Alex had no idea where those invasive thoughts came from but they weren’t that confusing or even unwanted, he realised; because while his senses melted in what had to be the best cover of Rammstein he had ever heard, a part of his brain worked for Ethan. Ethan was full of surprises, Ethan was a heartbreaker and if he really were a girl, he’d be no better than Helen Knightley or Cindy Byers. He’d be more of a bitch than a bastard, though wasn’t he one now? That is, if Alex allowed himself to ever think such filth of his friend, and he wouldn’t. Ethan was too classy for that, too good.

 Someone’s hand found his shoulder in the dark, grasped onto him, and Alex found Ethan again, cheering and forcing his body to stay still, failing. He could feel a dull throb beginning to form at the base of his neck, his lungs began failing him – an overwhelming sensation, the verge of passing out.

 His own hand searched blindly for something to hold, wound up around Ethan’s waist like there was no better place to be, and Alex didn’t mind. Let himself have it, turned his back to Ava Chandler and embraced the presence of the foulmouthed Enfield star. Ethan didn’t mind him either, maybe he wasn’t feeling anything at all. Alex could see his mouth working a mile per minute, he was screaming or talking, and it was weird because he couldn’t hear a sound.

 He was screaming too, he could’ve screamed his soul out, but there was no sound at all.

 

 Nate and Ewing left them after the first band finished and as they came down Ethan, in all his childish naivety, ran up to them to congratulate and beg out an autograph, show his admirations. He wasn’t doing anything without honesty, Ethan had always been easy to amaze and he was a sucker for compliments. Back in their classroom, he’d give plenty of those, plenty of encouragements even when they were exaggerated, to their underclassmen though he could be just as mean. He had the confusing theory that the more you made someone feel good about themselves, the better they’d perform. So Ethan was nice, most of the times, or he was learning to be.

 “I’m really excited to hear the guys play, you know?” Danny was saying in the short break, while they all watched patiently as Nate and Ewing walked the stage and took orders from the crew and someone who had to be their supervisor or at least had a role similar to Siedle’s when it came to the boys. The only girl who seemed to be playing tonight was Ava, who kept sticking to Alex, desperate. So just like them, Nate’s little crew were all boys. And they’d be getting to know each other, if the locals would turn up at Percy’s unconventional birthday party.

 “I’m pretty sure they’re very good.”

 There was a little hint of jealousy Alex could clearly catch in the strain of Danny’s voice and he could only hope that tomorrow he would be calmer when it would be their turn on the stage. He was rather excited for it; as a musician himself, the experience of concerts had always been a bit different. People who couldn’t make music could settle with just screaming their throats raw and enjoying it but for Alex, being in the crowd, listening to others play, had always charged him with the need to climb up there too, to sing, to play, sweat out the adrenaline rushing through him.

 The locals though – and this made them all heave a sigh of relief – didn’t play anymore different than they did. With the same amount of passion and love for what they did, they got through five or six songs, sneaked in something purely theirs which was also very good in between the covers everybody could sing to if they knew their fair share of 80s favourites. They had spirit, and they knew what they were doing with the confidence that they were on their own turf. Alex was mostly out of his fanboy mood now so he just let himself observe the competition, made himself listen for any possible mistakes and heard none – none in the way their drummer played and none in Nate’s singing.

 And damn, could Nate sing good. While Alex’s voice still held a teenage bit of thinness, Nate’s was thick, deep, and just the right amount of hoarse to fill one with goosebumps. That mature sound became even more prominent when they changed up the mood with the easy flow of a ballad and all Alex could do was listen and wonder just how someone could sound so _different_ when he sang and talked.

 He throws Ethan a look. And Ethan stares and watches wide-eyed, captivated, and almost ready to drool.

 “He’s good, right?” Ava asked from somewhere beside him and Alex didn’t even look at her when he said:

 “I’m better.”

 He didn’t quite know where that had come from, certainly he hadn’t meant to sound cocky or too confident, but maybe it made Ava just a bit hotter and what’s more, Ethan sure heard him. And he looked at him over his shoulder, the dazed look he had given Nate gone for good, replaced by something smug and knowing – the same pinup girl look he had given him a few hours ago in front of the hotel. Their eyes met, and Alex wasn’t quite smiling. He hadn’t meant to sound all macho, it didn’t fit him, but if he was going to give the impression, then there was no better time than now.

 

 Jerry Day and Percy, and Ava and the guy who Alex vaguely remembered was called something along the lines of Mack, or Max, were a bit better but not by much. Music was still music, and it wasn’t that different from what high school kids would play, though they appreciated the originality. There were hardly any covers and Ava made a sweet back-vocal. Percy, who had been itching for a smoke the whole night, was like an erratic little junkie on the drums, jumping up and down and bringing down the sticks with his entire body. Ethan told him somewhere through their gig that he didn’t really like the lack of fines much, it changed the sound.

 “I’ve never liked that guy,” Rich, the kid who played the drums from Nate’s team, agreed when he overheard. “Out of all of us, Ewing’s the only one who likes him.”

 “Are you coming to his party thing?” Alex asked and Rich took his eyes off of his bottle of Mountain Dew to look at him.

 “Hell no.” He said, though he wasn’t meaning to be that impolite at all. So Alex took no actual offence. “I would, if he wasn’t there, but I’m not really into the whole party scene. Well, parties with those guys,” he pointed at the boys playing on the stage, “are all weed and alcohol and the occasional girl they can sneak in. Last year the concert was in San Fran, their turf. The after-party was a tragedy, we almost got thrown out of the hotel.”

 “Too wild for you?”

 Rich huffs, “Nate throws better parties. His folks own something like a little villa thing just nearby. We’d gather up there with guys from school and have a bunch of fun you know? But it’s boring when the most fun thing about the night is getting stoned.”

 Alex smiled; he could relate to that. The most fun he had ever had at a party had been one Halloween at Scotty Donovan’s. They had taken his little brother trick or treating with Becky Kennedy, for God’s sake, and then they had piled in his house for loud music, candy and punch. It had been a party for virgin losers at best, the only alcohol had been vodka and they had mixed that with juice and coke. But it had been the company that had made his night. At least he knew now one of Nate’s boys had taste.

 He had thought that maybe after the late show, Jerry Day and most of them really would be too tired for a birthday party. Nate and his own buddies said goodbye as soon as the opening of the show was declared over and the crowd split. An empty gash of sand appeared suddenly along the beach as people began to head for the lot where their cars waited. Alex was surely still longing for that sweet bed in that little room too.

 “You’re coming over after this right?” They overheard Percy begging Ewing on their way towards the car.

 “And are you?” Jerry Day asked, raising his brows in their direction. He was still a bit red-faced from the show, a bit sweaty, but perhaps playing had had the opposite effect on them – they were more energetic than ever. Alex envied that; he was feeling like a jellyfish after a day in the sun. “We’ll be in room 404.”

 “We’ll be there,” Ethan promised, looking at them for confirmation. Ronny was down for it and Danny looked at Alex shyly, waiting to see what he would say. Alex didn’t have to open his mouth for Ethan to know he wasn’t fully on board, his face said it all. “Dude, come on. It’ll be fun.”

 “I need a shower right now, man,” Alex said, “and sleep. I’m beat.”

 “Don’t act like my grandma! I’m not making you run a marathon, it’s still early.”

 “It’s twelve, Ethan.”

 “So? We’re gonna eat and drink, not solve chemistry problems.”

 “Well, I want to eat and drink in our room, in silence. I need a fucking Tylenol too…”

 Ethan rolled his eyes but kept quiet, only until they got in the car. He continued his persuasions as soon as the doors were shut.

 “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked.

 “Yes, I’m fucking sure,” Alex said through gritted teeth. “I’m tired from sitting in the damn car all day, I’m hungry, my head fucking hurts, and didn’t Siedle tell you not to get in trouble?”

 “Dude,” Ronny said from the front, “you knew we didn’t mean it when we said we wouldn’t be doing shit.”

 “I thought you didn’t even like that Jerry guy.” Alex looked at Ethan, eyes hooded with doubt.

 Ethan shrugged, “I’m going for the weed, alcohol and good time. Look, just come over for a little bit. Just an hour. If you’re still not having fun then, you can go to bed.”

 Alex knew how the evening would end – with him on someone else’s bed in a crowded little room, with his head pounding even more and his good clothes smelling of cigarettes and weed. Then there would be the inevitable follow-up – the morning, fighting off a hangover, eating food low on energy and a permanent bad mood throughout the day. He didn’t tell Ethan that and so he took his bitter silence as a final agreement.

 “Please be there,” Alex found himself begging Danny once they got back to the hotel. He talked quietly, so Siedle wouldn’t overhear them. The man was already wishing them good night, as if he couldn’t sense the conspiracy going on, as if he couldn’t see the guys talking together without a sign of breaking it up for the night. “I don’t really know anybody here and I don’t wanna talk either. Ethan will go full on party douchebag on me in there with Ronny so all I’ll have to do is sit and wait for the right time to slip out. Plus, there’s this chick stuck to me that I don’t want to deal with anymore, so please, just be there with me, man.”

 “I wouldn’t really mind having a chick after me, dude.” Danny laughed.

 “Then I’ll hook you up, gladly.”

 They stopped by the room Danny shared with Ronny for only a moment to grab a painkiller for Alex’s impending headache and then they dragged themselves up to the fourth floor. It wasn’t hard to find Percy Owens’ room after that, they could hear the echo of music all the way from the opposite side of the hall. It ended with a fire escape where beside the tight window Jerry Day was smoking with one of his buddies. Ewing was nowhere in sight.

 The guys weren’t as rowdy as Rich had warned though a teacher did come once to tell them to keep the noise and commotion down. Otherwise, it was a boring agenda, the only two girls were Ava and a little blonde she introduced as Nataly Clementi. She was there with some other guys that would occasionally come in for a sip of something or to glance at the TV where the late-night sex commercials were rolling. Percy’s room was too small to contain all of them so those who hadn’t gotten there early to sit down on the bed or a bit of the floor were supposed to stand outside on the balcony or in the hall.

 After the concert, the music blaring from the portable speaker of someone was dreadfully quiet and their voices horribly loud. Alcohol was passed around in plastic cups, the weed although in a reasonable amount unlike what the Enfield boys were used to had to be shared, and the thought that some stranger had been lapping at what he was sticking in his own mouth made Alex shudder. Ethan had less of a problem with that.

 Speaking of Mallory, he was blending right in with all the big city kids, and he was having fun. A little bit high or tipsy, or both, he stood leaning outside by the fire exit and it’s white-rimmed window. Oddly, he wasn’t having much of a problem with Jerry Day standing just opposite of him smoking Marlboro Reds, something Ethan had always found gross.

 Alex had a good view of them from his spot beside the bed, stuck between Ava Chandler and Danny. His mind was far from the conversation they were trying to make him participate in. One ear perked up for the erratic beats of some classic KMFDM while the other, much like his pointed stare, got all he could piece together from Ethan and Jerry’s quiet conversation. Smoke spilt from the window, cracked open, with each of their lazy exhales.

 “So, that queer act,” Jerry said, the jeer in his voice making Alex’s brows drop low over his eyes, “must get you a lot of ladies, right?”

 From where he sat he couldn’t quite see the change in Ethan’s expression but he could feel the puzzlement in his voice when he said, “Queer… _act_?”

 Jerry Day’s own expression didn’t soften, on the contrary – his eyes became menacingly sharp and knowing, and their grey colour only served to make them seem that much more inhuman under the white neon glow of the overhead lights.

 “Oh, come on, like you don’t get it?” He said, following another heavy exhale of smoke, “It’s not like I care or anything. But I give you A plus, for the smug approach.”

 “I don’t really understand, man,” Alex heard Ethan mutter and listened as the guy who had once openly told the first girl on his queue of at least a dozen needy Enfield blondies that he wasn’t interested in the female gender _at all_ stumble over himself in the attempt to form a lie. “And I _am_ pretty out of it, so…”

 “Don’t be a fucking girl, man, I’m _congratulating_ you. Girls are pretty hot for that sensitive shit.”

 “Do I _look_ like a _sensitive_ guy?”

 “Dude,” the guy sitting cross-legged on the floor – Alex can’t tell who it was, he could only see his jeans and the tips of his red sneakers – gasped, and he shifted, probably to sit more upright, “I think he’s calling you a fag or something?”

 “Must be tough,” Jerry Day went on and Alex felt the sudden urge to get up and knock his teeth down his throat, though he was stunned still. His ass is beginning to tingle from sitting so long on the hard floor. “I mean, Enfield sounds like…like a place with a bunch of judging hicks. Must be hard in a place like that, when you’re…”

 “Dude, you’re _drunk_.” Ethan laughed, tried to, at best. He sounded awfully awkward, as if he was trapped alone in enemy territory. And Alex hated him in that moment, hated to think of the courage he flaunted his preferences in Enfield with, where the judgemental hicks still lived fifty years back in time, while also acting all uncomfortable now, under the scrutiny of people who didn’t have to matter at all. Why had he told him, why had he told Alex whose opinion actually had to have some meaning and couldn’t risk outing himself to a bunch of losers from a town he might never visit again?

 “Cut it out,” the guy with the red sneakers chided. Maybe he really was standing up for Ethan, maybe he was just too drunk to pick a good side. “He ain’t no fairy, man. Are you, dude?”

 Ethan remained quiet for a little while and Alex could imagine him, standing there hunched and sobering in the corner between the walls, his tongue running idly over his somewhat crooked front teeth.

 “Well, it’s not like there are too many girls worth ogling at, so…”

 “Don’t worry.” Jerry Day said, leaning out of Alex’s sight, into Ethan perhaps, to whisper, “I won’t judge, man. You know Percy? The birthday boy. He was into that whole bi bullshit last year, saw him making out with a guy once. So, are you…”

 “ _No_ , what the fuck? Quit breathing down my neck, Jerry Night, are you offering your ass here or something?”

 Alex couldn’t handle the impatient waver in Ethan’s voice. He stood up, leaning sideways only a bit on his way for the door. The blood finally rushed into his head and the sound of the music became lost for a single moment in the voices of Ava and Danny as they called after him.

 Alex’s appearance in the hall is shocking for nearly five seconds until he’s turning for the stairs. He didn’t look in Ethan’s direction for long enough to catch his expression, quilt and shame, and he had completely missed the fact that Jerry wasn’t even leaning into him – he had ducked his head out of the little window, looking at the street below.

 “Shit, Alex…!” Ethan called after him, dropping his cig out of the window before almost tripping over the other guy’s outstretched legs when he bent them awkwardly up. “ _Dude,_ really?!”

 “Hey, sorry, mate…”

 Alex didn’t take the elevator, had no time to wait for it in awkward silence; he took the stairs, skipping down the steps with dangerous speed, bypassing one step, sometimes hopping through two at a time on his way down. His heart had no time to skip when his shoe glided over the edge of one step and he had to jump down on the carpeted platform between floors over whole three. He missed their floor on purpose, darting out of the hotel through the silent lobby and into the humid night outside.

 “Alex, man, wait!” Ethan yelled again, dashing through the glass doors. Whether it was the cool air or the thought that Alex had just heard him be talked down like a wimp that was working such wonders with shocking him into sobriety, neither of them really knew, but unlike Alex, Ethan had a far better balance on his feet already. “What the fuck, dude, what the fuck’s your deal?”

 “So you…” Alex started to say, trailing off into a string of hushed curses. His red face showed not only inevitable anger but also the vague hints of confusion and helplessness, and even irritation. That Ethan could understand, and he knew that he was the one who had slapped it there.

 “I what?” He asked, pretending to not understand; he didn’t have to act too much, a lot of things were still way away from his rational understanding. “ _What_?”

 “ _Nothing_.” Alex sighed, running both hands through his short hair with the desire to tug out a whole handful.

 “That wasn’t nothing…”

 “Oh, yeah?! Then you tell me!” Alex demanded, the bite in his voice forcing Ethan a step back. Were it someone else, he would’ve been pissed, things would’ve gotten bloody and mean pretty quickly. But Ethan didn’t want to punch Alex, hell, he didn’t even want to fight with him. “The fuck was…You…What did you tell me, Ethan?”

 “I don’t…” Ethan stammered.

 “You told me that you didn’t give a fuck, what people…thought about you. Right? You told me…that it didn’t matter…that you…And what the fuck was that back there? Are you or are you not straight, Ethan?!”

 “ _Shut up_ ,” Ethan hissed, eyes narrowing as he tried to make sense of his friend’s words. “Be more quite. I still don’t get what your problem is.”

 “My _problem_ , Ethan, is you acting all confident, _telling_ me stuff, then going on and acting all _confused_ , all _dumb_ with some San Francisco _bitch_. Who the fuck are you fooling, man, who the fuck are you trying to be honest with because I can’t get you!”

 “You dick, you know damn well why I told you.”

 “Yeah? Then why not tell everybody, huh? Why not just spill the beans already, if you’re that okay with it, if that’s all you, hundred percent, confident and brave Ethan, huh?!”

 “Who I decide to tell and who not,” Ethan said, “is my damn business. What really is your problem, that I don’t want to come out to the whole world or that I came out to you?”

 “Why?” Alex spat, “I thought you had no problem with people knowing? That you were comfy with all that…queer bullshit.”

 “Hey, now,” Ethan’s voice lowered to a misleadingly calm tone, “don’t fucking say _that_ , man. You’re crossing a thin line here…”

 “Am I?” Alex challenged. “Am I?! What are you gonna do then? Punch me?!”

 “I might as well do, you bastard!”

 “When Jerry Day said you were gay why didn’t you tell him you were?”

 “Because I knew what would happen, because I knew that they would…”

 “ _Would what_?!”

 “ _Act like you_! Because I knew that if I told anybody, it would be the same thing all over, because I knew that telling you was a mistake and that telling anyone else would be a mistake, and that…That it’s your fault, that I don’t feel okay at all, that I feel like I’m sick because my best friend who was supposed to not care and to understand started treating me like I’m contagious, like I’m…like I’m filthy, or whatever! Because I knew that if you didn’t want to treat me like a normal person, who else would want to? You took it from me, you fucking douchebag, you took all my damn _confidence_ like it meant nothing to you!”

 “And your opinion fucking _mattered_ to me, Alex,” Ethan said, voice so weak it could be mistaken for a desperate sob, “and you spat at all of that, like you didn’t care. I don’t want to tell anybody because you made me feel like I have something wrong with me when I don’t, and we both know it! So I might as well beat your ass up right here, right now, if that’s what it takes to prove to you that I’m still the same person!”

 “I just…” Alex gasped, arms falling beside him in defeat, “I didn’t want things to be like this.”

 “And did _I_ ever?”

 “I didn’t know…”

 “Don’t be a liar,” Ethan spat, “you knew all along how I felt about you avoiding me like some terminal illness, and you liked it too, you fucking sadist.”

 And he wasn’t fully wrong either, because it had become Alex’s fixation and obsession to punish him, both of them, for having such a dirty secret and putting up with it. Because he did like the doe-eyed look Ethan would give him and he’d like his attention and the way he’d get all serious with Alex…That wasn’t how Ethan was, wasn’t how he treated anybody or himself, and it had been Alex who had made him like that.

 There was a sure bit of pleasure in that knowledge, the greater was the pain of pushing him away and having him scramble back like a kicked dog.

 “I don’t hate you,” Alex said, pleading almost, as Ethan took out a pack of Camels from the inside of his vest. “I don’t…I never wanted you to think that I can…”

 “What else can I think?” Ethan asked, his anger melting as Alex’s desperation rose. He took out a cig and lit it. “I never wanted you to hate me. Fuck, it’s like Enfield really is a dump for all the homophobic hicks. I just never wanted you to be one…”

 “I’m really not…”

 “Like hell, you’re not.” Ethan accused through gritted teeth.

 They walked back to the side of the hotel where they made sure to hide beneath the balconies so nobody who mattered could catch them smoking. Ethan didn’t offer him one and Alex didn’t ask; they shared, passing the roll of white paper and tobacco between each other like it didn’t matter. Alex had no problem with Ethan’s spit in his mouth, apparently.

 “Does it show?” Ethan asked him, blowing out a puff of smoke. The only light around them was that coming from the lobby and so half of him was hidden in the shadows of the hedges rounding the Pacific.

 “What?” Alex asked.

 Ethan huffed.

 “ _What_?” He mimicked, grumbling under his breath. “That I’m…Does it show that much? To make you angry, to bother you. Does it?”

 Shame coloured Alex’s face and he glanced away. Ethan knew how to corner him and Alex knew he had the answer to that. In fact, nothing in Ethan had ever changed, it was just that now Alex knew what the reason for his behaviour was, or at least knew the better part of it. Ethan had never stopped being himself, for the most part, still was the best mix of both, and the boyish masculinity was still more than the female sass.

 “Hm, knew it.”

 He takes another drag of the cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stomping it with the heel of his shoe before sauntering off towards the parking lot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to go into many details, mostly because there's nothing much to be said about this chapter, so I'll just say thank you to all my readers and I'm so very happy you're here! :) For more info about the story or a chat, find me on Tumblr - @j-fuckin-d! See you next week, loves!

 The following morning was nothing but a bittersweet experience. After following Ethan back to their room, Alex had taken a quick shower – quick not because he had felt too drained to stay under the hot spray for long but because he had to struggle for the better part of it with the knob that kept the water flowing. In the end, he had washed his hair and the soap off his skin with one hand while keeping the round nub raised with the other. Then they had watched the pornographic gems of the late 90s in strained silence before finally agreeing to turn off the TV close to half-past two.

 But Alex hadn’t managed to fall asleep for a long time after, despite his fatigue. He had laid in bed irritated and so very guilty, listening to Ethan’s shallow breathing. It felt almost as though he was laying right beside him and not all the way on the other bed.

 His alarm woke them just as Alex was beginning to nod off under the blissful caress of the early sun. Ethan got up as soon as the startling ring was muted so he could take a shower; Alex listened to the choppy sounds of the water coming in erratic bursts through the showerhead in the tiny bathroom. He couldn’t force himself out of bed.

 “Did you shower yesterday?” Ethan asked him when he finally stepped out. Yesterday, in their case, meant just a few hours ago when it had been dark enough to call night. Goosebumps covered Ethan’s skin and he was shaking somewhat, as if the water had been freezing when he had showered.

 “Yeah,” Alex said, a little happy that Ethan was talking to him again, a little needy to answer another question or two about his own time with the peculiar shower.

 “And you…had no problems? Managed to turn on the water alright?”

 “Yeah, sure.” Alex lied, far too confidently. “Why?”

 Ethan sat down at the edge of his bed, his back to Alex as he fished out a pair of underwear to wear from his duffle bag. He dressed quietly and quickly before towelling his hair dry. The blond strands appeared fluffier, like the fur of a brand new stuffed toy.

 “No reason.”

 The breakfast they were served fitted the standards of a high school girl’s diet rather than those of a growing boy who hadn’t eaten anything sufficient in over a day. And not only was Alex disgruntled with the sight of overcooked toast and the tiny packages of butter and artificial jam in his otherwise empty plate, but he also had to put up with Ronny and Danny’s drowsy, post-party expressions.

 “So what time did you go to bed at again, Dee?” He asked, just to spite him. Danny looked as if he had made some of the worst decisions of his life the previous night.

 “Please, don’t talk so loud…” He begged, shamefully, eyeing the remains of food in Alex’s plate. “Are you eating that?”

 They were supposed to play at four or half past four that afternoon which left them with a good amount of time to explore. They weren’t that into the mood to drive around in the stuffy car and put up with Mr Siedle but at least they stopped at a nice place to eat some real food. The beach was their next stop and though they couldn’t really run in for a dip in the salty waves, the sight was also worthwhile. They sure didn’t have that in Enfield where the deepest body of water was the quarry a mile out of town. And that water did not heat up the way the shallow bits of the sea did under the blinding sun.

 They had a scheduled rehearsal at half-past three that afternoon. Late-day shows were hardly their thing and neither of them was quite used to playing in the daylight. The sound of the sea and the gulls dipping down for a bite of whatever trash they could find felt like TV static. People were walking aimlessly back and forth across the shore, dogs ran along with them, playing in the waves and sand.

 From afar and in the light of the late afternoon, the stage appeared smaller and less daunting than it had last night. It wasn’t until Alex stepped up did he realise how wrong his initial perception had been. His heart didn’t swell with the need to play or sing when he got a look at the beach from the top; he didn’t feel that same lively buzz of adrenaline that usually came with standing up to the mic and smiling at the audience. There wasn’t a trace of those pretty feelings and spiritual arousal he had learned to associate with music.

 When he walked out on the crescent-shaped platform covered in something black and rubber, Alex felt a very audible gasp rush out of his lips before he could stop it. His legs lost their strength, his body its balance, and he nearly swayed off the side of the stage and into the hard cover of sand about nine feet down. The healthy flush drained from his face, leaving his skin the colour of damp chalk, and Alex felt the ticklish sensation of a wave of shivers crawl up his back and arms.

 “Damn…” Alex sighed, eyeing the empty beach rounding the stage. “It’s pretty huge.”

 “That’s what she said!” Ronny jeered, not so smartly, behind him.

 “Yeah, man, very original.” Alex snapped, willing his voice to remain passive. His breath came a little quicker. “I think I’m having a panic attack…”

 “It’s not a panic attack,” Danny said, “if you can… _realise_ you’re having it.”

 He threw Alex a better look before adding, his voice on the verge of panic, “Are you okay, Alex?”

 Alex nodded his head quickly, yes. Though he might have been a bit pale, a bit sweaty, he couldn’t afford to freak out now and especially let anybody else know he was even a bit nervous.

 “I’m fine.”

 “Alex, are you doing good?” Mr Siedle asked him from the side of the stage, having also noticed his rigid posture.

 “Of course, yeah,” Alex repeated, lying through his teeth. He wasn’t okay at all. He felt underprepared, felt lost, and whenever he looked left or right all he could see was the giant stage that they just couldn’t fill by themselves. He felt tiny amidst it. “Just…Got a bad case of stage fright, I think…”

 “Do you want some water? Alex…?”

 “Yeah, actually. Some water would be okay…”

 Ethan passed him a bottle and Alex noticed that he too was watching him closely, worriedly. He lingered until Alex gulped the better part of it and seemed to hesitate only slightly before squeezing his shoulder. His hand lingered there, strong and heavy, grounding Alex into the present, and he looked back at Ethan as he released a long, quiet exhale. He felt only a bit better and Ethan’s courage and relaxed posture as he strode towards the drums in the back of the stage made his breath come easier.

 But his nonchalant attitude gave the wrong impression that Ethan was the most unaffected by their moment of glory. Had anyone seen the way he nearly collapsed on the round stool behind the set, as if he were about to pass out any minute now, they would realise that he too felt more nervous to be there than excited to play.

 Nate’s presence was a sudden but unusually welcomed relief. The sight of that signature leather jacket in the humidity helped put Alex in a competitive mood.

 “Do you guys have time for a smoke?” Nate asked them. He was being polite and friendly, and quite alone. There was no sight of Ewing or Rich. Nobody seemed to be really interested in them playing and, frankly, Alex did feel relief that they wouldn’t be there to judge and scrutinize. Considering they had gone to watch them yesterday, however, he felt that the gesture deserved to be returned.

 “No, actually,” he told Nate. He felt like he could use a cigarette but there were already less than ten minutes till they were up and he couldn’t really afford to relax too much. The crowd was already waiting, not as big as the one yesterday night but bigger than at Turner’s.

 “You look a bit nervous,” Nate observed and under different circumstances, Alex would’ve guessed he was making fun of him. Maybe he was but he didn’t care as much. “Don’t worry about the show! It’s easy to impress people. Do you know what you’ll be playing?”

 “Yeah, we, ugh…We got a few good covers practised and some original stuff.”

 “So you’ve been playing for a while?”

 “Years, really,” Alex said, “we’ve been pretty much doing this since we met.”

 “Are you any good?”

 “I’d consider us even.”

 Nate’s brows rose up, his lips quirking into a lopsided grin of amusement. Alex took that disbelief as a challenge.

 “That guy really pisses you off, doesn’t he?” Ronny pointed out when he noticed Alex quietly glaring at Nate from afar.

 Alex couldn’t even find the need to lie, “He _really_ pisses me off.”

 Muffled mumbling reached their ears suddenly, followed by what was supposed to be singing. They let it go past them until it got a bit too annoying and even Ronny snapped, “Where the fuck is this noise coming from?!”, looking around for the source of the sound.

 All eyes turned to Ethan who sat down by the stairs leading to the beach. His head was nodding softly back and forth, foot tapping along the rhythm of Lana del Rey’s _You can be the boss, daddy_. His lips were moving along with the lyrics; he hadn’t realised that his voice was actually quite audible by then.

 The boys stared at him for a long moment before he finally felt their glares. Ethan’s head raised, hand tugging out the earbuds from his ears.

 “What?” He said, standing up. He wasn’t stupid enough to not realise what the cause for their disbelief was but that didn’t mean at all that he would be ashamed of it. “What, guys? It’s the fucking _Prodigy_ …Why am I even explaining my music to you?”

 He shook his head, made himself appear more irritated than he was really, before striding past them. The boys couldn’t help but look after him, mouths hanging open and eyes wide and questioning.

 

 Like at Turner’s they got into it quite early on; fears and insecurities were thrown aside and Nate had been right – it took little to rile the audience up. Either that or they were too good, and that sparked another wave of anxiety and controversy. The experience was fun, unusual, and the sun wasn’t even that big of a problem. It was like a party where, though it took some time to get into the spirit, it was too fun to leave by the end of it.

 They finished with _Young and a Menace_ , a personal favourite of Alex’s and now, apparently, everybody's. Ava Chandler stood waiting for them behind the stage and when they were done she came up to Alex. Her eyes were bright, as if somebody had spilt liquid glitter over them. She looked up at him like he was a star, paying no attention to anyone else.

 “You were really amazing,” she gushed, like a thirteen-year-old at a Bieber concert. “You really did something fantastic with the final. Don’t tell anyone but I was a huge Fall Out Boy fan in sixth grade.”

 She might have winked at him but Alex was too busy staring at the pleased and delightfully surprised expression on Nate’s face while he congratulated the guys.

 “What’re you guys doing tonight?” He asked, the ominous suggestion making the boys look at each other. “I’m hosting a party at my place tonight. Everybody’s invited. It’ll be cool if you stopped by.”

 “Is that the infamous Guzman hospitality?” Ava jeered cockily and if she hadn’t been stuck to Alex since yesterday, it would appear almost as if she was trying to be flirtatious.

 “You’re not invited anymore, good job,” Nate said before raising a brow at the boys. “I’ll send you the address if you’re up for it.”

 “Sure, we’ll be there.” Alex agreed eagerly. He didn’t have a plan yet how they would escape Siedle’s watchful eye to go to a party at an unknown place with unknown people but they’d have to make it happen. Alex didn’t want them to give the wrong impression, didn’t want Nate to think of him in particular as a loser.

 “We will?” Ethan raised a brow.

 “Sure. Why not?”

 “I thought you’d be grumpy the whole time, like yesterday.”

 Alex tried to respond to that with humour but the truth was that he felt another pang of bitter guilt at the memory of how catastrophic yesterday had been. He didn’t want to but he felt that he should at least make it up to the guys.

 No, what he meant was actually that he really wanted to make it up to Ethan, fast.

 They stayed for the next few shows but after deciding that nothing as impressive as yesterday would come up soon, they returned to the hotel for dinner. Ethan thought it necessary to ask Jerry Day why they hadn’t been with Ava at the show when they saw them in the restaurant but decided against it. It wasn’t worth being bitter or starting fights over something that could have been for the better.

 “Do you think those guys will be there?” He asked Alex sometime during the evening. Dinner was done for and now they were both standing in the elevator, waiting to reach their floor.

 “Yeah, if everybody’s invited.” He eyed Ethan sideways, “You don’t like that Day dude, right?”

 Ethan shrugged. He couldn’t explain it but Alex wasn’t wrong.

 “I don’t trust guys who wear sunglasses at night,” Ethan said, mimicking Alex’s answer as to why he didn’t like Nate.

 “Dude, _you_ wear sunglasses at night.”

 “So you look at me, huh? That’s so sweet that you notice.”

 “It’s hard not to.”

 There were no smart looks but Alex was happy to hear Ethan sounding much like his usual witty self. The change should have intimidated him somewhat but he let it happen, thinking that they were working towards restoring whatever they had lost over the past months. Well, whatever Alex had ruined. But that was a vague thought.

 “So,” Ethan said on their way down the hall, “you planning on hooking up with that Ava girl tonight then? Is that why you’re going?”

 Alex, though taken aback, decided to play it cool, “Maybe. It’s not only why I’m going.”

 “She seems pretty hooked already.”

 That was pretty clear and anybody could see it but Alex wasn’t that interested. He had realised that yesterday at the concert. He didn’t know just what was up with him and what he wanted but it definitely wasn’t a stranger pawing at him till the end of the week.

 “Alex, the player,” Ethan chuckled dryly, “The guys back home won’t even believe it.”

 “It’s got to have something to do with the Santa Cruz air.” Alex joked.

 

 The Guzman’s owned a pool, was the first thing, or one of the first, he noticed on his way around the summer home. The surface was lit by a number of white lights lining the sides of the rectangle, the ripples along it throwing playful shadows across the house and garden.

 The unfamiliar faces were a pleasant change – it was a reminder that they were far from Enfield, judgement and rude glares. Not that teenagers in Enfield were purposefully rude; teenagers everywhere were the same. Their only crime was that the vast majority thought they were too good than they were.

 Ethan had seen a lot if not all from what those kids had to offer. He knew Ronny, he knew the popular circle in Enfield and he knew just how much each and every one of them was worth. He also knew himself better than anyone and knew how far hate and self-worth issues could spread within the mind of a teenager. Luckily, he had grown out of this quickly and fairly recently – not before calling Mary Hamilton fat in the middle of the hall in front of their schoolmates and proceeding to top it off with a lewd gesture he had picked up from a movie, but he faulted Ronny’s bad influence for that one. That moment was one of his personal worst, if only because he never managed to apologize for it. Mary transferred a week later. And maybe it was that that had such a sobering effect on him.

 But, never mind the kids back home, the ones Ethan was made to observe now weren’t that different. They were the same even, so no matter that he didn’t know any of them, Ethan could say that his usual approach was working as well as ever.

 The music was loud and the beat made his head pound and ears ring, made his mind swim in delirious happiness and contentment. His eyes found Alex across the room – a wide living room on the first floor where a set of sliding doors led to the yard and pool outside – where he sat beside Ava Chandler on the couch. He was uncomfortably chatting with someone about something, trying to relax but also feeling too awkward with Ava so close.

 Ethan himself was stuck in a very boring conversation with Nate and Rob Ewing himself, envying the few kids dancing wildly in the middle of the room to the beat of some Ellie Goulding remix. Nate’s attention, as the host, was too preoccupied for anything but a few dry jokes, some of which Ethan had found too edgy or the right amount of homophobic to laugh at. His eyes kept drifting over to Alex, then, realising he was most likely staring, would roam the room to spot Ronny. Danny was outside smoking, glued to the hip of the even more nervous Natalie Whatshername. He was doing surprisingly good though the number of parties he had been could be counted on the fingers of one hand and Ethan was so proud of him for trying.

 Quietly, Ethan slipped away from the small group that had now formed around Nate and Ewing and walked through the labyrinth of bodies towards his friend. Nearing the table, he swayed theatrically, his legs bumped into the wooden edge and though he had a nearly perfect grip on his plastic cup of raspberry juice and vodka he let it drop forward right into Ava Chandler’s lap. His mock surprise when Ava screamed, outraged, when the red juice soaked into the white satin of her blouse deserved an Oscar.

 “I am _so_ sorry,” Ethan began to apologize in earnest, “Oh, Jesus, I didn’t mean to…”

 “Get out of my way!” Ava shrieked, dashing past him on her way to the bathroom. Pleased that no matter how she tried to clean it the juice would doubtlessly leave a visible stain, Ethan watched her go.

 “I didn’t mean to!” He called faintly after her before shaking his head and giving her back the finger. “Or not really.”

 “Way to ruin a guy’s date,” Alex said, though he didn’t seem that disappointed. He was rather amused even, watched Ethan with a lazy smile as he plopped beside him on the couch.

 “What?” Ethan smiled, pointing at Alex, then in the direction that Ava had disappeared in, “Was there something going on here? Really? I’m sorry to you too then, Alex, it seemed to me that my pal was dying of boredom from my point of view.”

 “Well, now you know that you just ruined your pal’s chances of getting some.”

 “So that’s your type? Does _she_ really do it for you?”

 Alex looked at Ethan for a long moment before laughing. He knew that whatever he answered, Ethan wouldn’t believe him.

 “Wow, and then he says he’s not into the Cindy Byers type.”

 “Well, when you’re desperate…”

 “Alexander, the heartbreaker. Unbelievable.”

 He didn’t feel much like a heartbreaker, more like a douchebag with a plastic cup of alcohol, but there was no reason to let Ethan know that. He already knew, Alex supposed grimly. There were a lot of things Ethan either knew or could guess about him and sometimes it bothered him how well Ethan could break people down to their essence despite everything about him screaming otherwise.

 When Ava returned, she stood for a long moment watching both Ethan and Alex from the doorway, biting her lip and frowning. Her thin brows lowered menacingly as she frowned, her pretty face appeared struck by jealousy she could not explain when she saw the ease with which Alex laughed in the other boy’s company.

 Fine, she decided. If they would be playing so, then she would keep going.

 “That will leave a stain, you know,” she said, disgruntled, walking back over to the couch.

 Ethan looked at her then pointed at his chest in mock surprise.

 “It’s my fault, right? I’m really sorry, Amy.”

 “Ava.”

 “Yeah, I am _so_ sorry.”

 Unfazed by the shamelessly faked apology, Ava sat down on Alex’s right. Shifting as close as she could into his side she eyed Ethan again – he sat just as close as she did, somewhat turned to face Alex. Their conversation had lost some of its spark after her arrival and had turned into a more held-back exchange. There appeared to be something else going on between them, something undecipherable.

 “So,” she said in a while, “how long have you known each other?”

 “Oh, for about…three years.” Ethan replied casually, searching in his pocket for his cigarettes. He pulled one out and lit it, taking the first drag before offering it to Ava, almost as a further apology.

 However, Ava only scoffed, “I don’t smoke, thank you.”

 “Well, then…what a good girl,” Ethan said, frowning slowly, “Your parents must be proud.”

 “What’s your problem?”

 “My _problem_? I don’t have a problem…”

 “Okay!” Alex exclaimed, putting an end to the feud before it became uncontrollable. With a comforting arm over Ava’s shoulder and one hand out to take the cigarette Ethan was offering, he tried to ease them back into a comfortable conversation. “Nobody’s got a problem here. Oh, but this song…! Yeah, ain’t this one of your fave, Ethan?”

 “Maybe. And do you listen to KMFDM, Ava?”

 “Yeah, and the Prodigy too,” the girl said cockily, “in case you ask.”

 They were back to stage one before Alex could help it but there was nothing more than a strained tension between them now. In the middle of it, Alex could best feel the chilling glares.

 Somebody offered them weed at some point and that Ava took without hesitation when she saw Ethan do – when she saw him making nearly perfect little smoke rings though she decided not to try and fail miserably to impress anybody.

 Nearly simultaneously, both Ava and Ethan turned to Alex with the words, “Want to get out of here?”

 Alex wasn’t necessarily looking at Ava but he appeared so apologetic that Ethan knew what he would prefer. It had nothing to do with him, maybe; maybe he wanted to prove something to himself by choosing to stay with Ava. Whatever the reason, Ethan knew when his company was unwanted.

 He raised his hands in mock surrender and got off the couch, his legs feeling almost alien under him. He didn’t really want to leave but surely there were better things to do than stubbornly leading the mute battle with Ava. Ethan tried to convince himself that staying with Alex simply wasn’t worth it when he could enjoy the cool night outside, getting himself wasted and teaching Natalie, Danny’s buddy, to smoke weed.

 Ethan hadn’t meant to give Ava Chandler the green light by leaving her alone with Alex though he knew that the moment she was rid of the competition, she would be back over him and Alex wouldn’t mind that much because he was needy and had nothing better to do. Last year he had dated a girl in Enfield, she had been a freshman, with a pleasant round face and somewhat plump around the hips. Ethan hadn’t liked her that much and it was a good thing that they broke up a few months later for a reason he couldn’t remember but ever since Alex had been on his own and he hadn’t even seemed _that_ interested in dating. He had tried to hook up Ethan instead, siding with Ronny in the failed crusade to get Ethan laid. It had been a very fun few months before their attention moved on to more pressing matters and that was forgotten.

 It wasn’t until Ethan threw Alex another look did the urgent need to go and spill his drink over Ava Chandler’s heavy curls came over him again out of nowhere. Ethan had never been the jealous type, never the one particularly thirsty for anyone’s attention – maybe because he always seemed to be in the centre of it, whether he wanted it or not – and it was less about that than actually being there with his friends and having fun without any side distractions. He knew Alex wanted it too. He might have had his arm around the girl, might have been laughing at her jokes, but Ethan knew when Alex was genuine and he wasn’t now. He couldn’t explain why it mattered but he knew it went beyond friendly solidarity.

 Angry at him himself for thinking so much, Ethan lit another cigarette. He smoked, drank and talked with everyone about anything; he even managed to beat Percy Owens at a drinking game but only because Percy was already more than tipsy. He did shots with Ewing, danced and sang to Green Day and AC/DC when some genius put them on. He even let Percy lean into him and breathe into his ear when they gathered to hear somebody play a few nice and slow ballads for the good few who knew what music was all about and at that moment he glanced at the couch where Ava Chandler had her arms around Alex, her tongue halfway into his mouth; the kiss appeared slimy and gross and made Ethan’s cheeks burn with a sudden wave of shame.

 “Are you jealous?” Percy asked him, eyes catching for a moment the kissing couple Ethan was so intensely ogling. His eyes were sore and reddened and he was dressed in the brightest green pants Ethan had ever seen. He himself had always been a fan of solid colours, or at least colours that matched – the shirt Percy had haphazardly buttoned over some grey tee shirt had all the wrong colours, none of them from the magenta pink and deep orange matched his jeans. It was a pain to look at him but he was friendly and meant no harm, so Ethan let him linger near him. He was far better than his friend Jerry Day, than Ava Chandler. There was something wild about him, like a teenage and less explicit Jimmy Urine, but at the same time, he seemed to bear not a bit of hate and Ethan both liked that quirky attitude and found its energy too much.

 “No,” Percy whined, teeth clacking while he chewed his gum, so his breath didn’t smell of corpses. He slapped Ethan’s cheek with one uncoordinated hand and Ethan had to clench his jaw so he wouldn’t shudder at the clammy feeling his palm left on his face. “Dude, there’s so much game here, don’t be jealous of _that_!” He lowered his voice to sigh in his ear, warm breath tickling the lobe, “Ava’s gonna give you an STD or s’mthing…”

 “That’s great and all,” Ethan laughed when Percy pretended to gag, though in the state of intoxicated he was it was hard to treat every random heave as a joke, “but I’m not jealous. I’m glad. Let my man have some.”

 “I wonder why I don’t get any,” Percy said, his voice sounding small and faint and so odd compared to the usual that it had Ethan looking at him with the sudden concern that he was about to faint or throw up, or possibly start crying. “I mean, I’m not picky. I’d have anything at this point. And they say being bi makes it easier to get laid. Bull-shit.”

 It took all for Ethan not to laugh again at Percy’s disappointment.

 “Well,” he said, “that’s how it has to be sometimes.”

 If he could only say how hard it was for him to have a healthy relationship in a town such as Enfield, if only Percy knew how easy he had it, with or without being bisexual or any other kind of sexual. He couldn’t know for sure but still he was certain that his social circle was far more welcoming and understanding than his. Enfield and the people there just weren’t cut out for him. And Ethan would never even let himself think that he didn’t belong. Because he knew he did and he knew he deserved everything the rest did an equal amount.

 Maybe Alex’s behaviour had made his self-esteem a bit shaky but it changed nothing.

 Ethan had been ready to accept that something as trivial as sexuality didn’t matter in the 21st century, in fact, he was a firm believer that the option to even chose was a purely human privilege. He’d have similar thoughts at night when sleep would stubbornly keep its distance and he ached to share them and at the same time was certain it wasn’t worth it. Trying to with Alex had been a catastrophe and he didn’t want to force it on his parents though they would never tell him they minded.

 And just when things were going good on his way towards fully believing himself and his natural choice, something would throw him off. Last time it had been Alex. Now it was the nasty wolf whistle that came from the other side of the room when Percy blew his mouthful of cigarette smoke in his face. He was already leaning dangerously close into his space, partly because he seemed like a very big fan of PDA, partly because his feet were too unstable to hold him upright anymore, and Ethan had been quite annoyed.

 Nothing more, nothing less but his visible lack of pleasure and Percy’s need for contact happened, despite what it seemed on the outside. But Ethan knew well how it looked, their closeness and Percy’s drunken advances. To know that the rest saw was enough to make stomach twist in that uncomfortably unpleasant way that it had that day in the classroom when Alex had narrowed his eyes at him, when he told him…

 “Ethan, dude,” Nate was the one to yell at him, the alcohol slurring his words, “you catching Owens’ fag sickness or something now?!”

 Beside him, Percy cackled. He didn’t care much, Ethan wouldn’t have cared either a while back, or if he was sober. But he wasn’t and right now, he was in no mood to hear slurs, be them joking or honest.

 “What did you say?” He called at Nate over the music and the round of laughter. Some of it died down quickly, people squirmed in their places while others watched quietly to see how far things would go. “I didn’t hear you, Nate, speak up!”

 “I was just joking,” Nate said, neither apologizing nor jeering at Ethan. There was no true sincerity in his words. But there was something in his eyes, in the way he tilted back his chin as if he was the boss. And maybe he was, maybe he had a reason to be, but Ethan didn’t care a bit about it.

 “Oh, yeah? So calling people fags is a joke to you?” He snapped. “Well guess what, bud. This _fag_ ,” he spat the word, “is not taking any more calls tonight. Come back when you’ve got something better to call me, you piece of shit!”

 Some of the kids around them cheered, their laughs and applause drunk and so very amused with the show they were witnessing. Percy laughed behind him, slapping a hand over his shoulder, and Ethan shook him off. He was angry at him for starting this and even more so at himself for keeping it up.

 Nate was the only one gaping at him, eyes narrowing slowly as the situation sank in his fuzzy brain and he could get a better grasp of it.

 “Dude,” he said, voice quiet and menacing, “no offence. But I feel like I’m picking a fight with a Chihuahua here. So I suggest you watch the tone before I get mean.”

 “I’m shaking in my motherfucking boots. And I suggest you don’t piss this Chihuahua off so I don’t bite your dick off.”

 He had unconsciously crossed the room and was now standing almost nose to nose with Nate, breathing in his sweat and the spirits on his breath. His eyes were thunder clouds, Ethan’s were lightning storms, and nobody was ready to interfere – all of them stood aside and watched, and Ethan felt like he was in the Enfield High courtyard, getting ready for one of those infamous fights he had never really participated in but watched with interest nonetheless.

 Whether it was the alcohol and drugs making him brave, he didn’t know, but he didn’t care anymore. All he needed was this, another slur, another whistle, anything and he’d be going off like a bomb.

 “Don’t fucking play with me when I’m mad, Mallory!” Nate screamed, the veins crossing his neck bulging with the effort and his face growing red. It did very little to intimidate Ethan though he was one scary sight – wide shoulders and chest, looming over Ethan despite there being no more than a few inches of difference between them in height. It was similar to a kitten squaring off with a Rottweiler.

 He reached up, grasped the collar of Nate’s shirt to pull himself into his space more, going right to the point where he would either be kissing him or bashing his forehead into his nose.

 “And you,” Ethan said, teeth clenched tight, “don’t fucking raise your voice at me!”

 Nate’s own hand came around the front of his shirt and before he could push him back, Ethan took a step from him, putting him at a distance far enough to comfortably swing his fist. He put his entire body into the movement of his arm, felt Nate’s teeth cut into his knuckles. Like in a movie, the music stopped abruptly, gasps erupted like a wave one after another when Nate staggered back.

 The surprise didn’t last long; Nate could take a punch better than many other dumb faces Ethan had punched before. He caught his footing and almost immediately swung his own arm, catching Ethan swiftly across the nose. Tears pooled immediately behind his eyelids and he felt the sparks of hot pain right into the back of his skull. His nose was numb but he could feel it burning, a steady trickle of blood oozing into his palms when his hands flew up out of instinct.

 And Nate would’ve landed a second good punch while Ethan wasn’t looking wasn’t it for Alex. Alex who walked up right behind Nate, Alex who grabbed his shoulder and spun him around almost effortlessly to land a punch right in his face. There was a nasty crunching sound, like dry twigs breaking under heavy soles in autumn.

 Nate was on his knees when Ethan finally managed to look at the scene. Alex was brushing back his fringe, like a hero in a movie. It was all Ethan could think about, the way his long fingers brushed back his dark hair, the way his eyes narrowed and became bright with anger. He could see that clearly, despite the veil of tears clouding his vision.

 “We’re leaving, come on,” Alex ordered and Ethan couldn’t really say no. Didn’t want to say no.

 Despite the commotion slowly rising, Alex’s hand found his and he pulled him along towards the sliding doors for the wide back yard. They were leaving. They really were leaving.

 Only Nate and his wounded pride weren’t going to let them go off so easy. He caught up to them, charging like a freight train right at Ethan despite Ewing’s attempts to hold him back. He might have been able to do something about it had he noticed it earlier but by the time Nate was pushing him forward towards the ground covered in wet tiles framing the pool, Ethan was still too engrossed in the way Alex was squeezing his hand to care.

 Nate’s wide hands collided with his back with all the strength and speed he had gained from the short distance between the house and pool and it was enough to make Ethan crash right into Alex. The soles of their sneakers slid over the tricky tiles like they were standing over thin ice. Somebody surely screamed but it couldn’t have been either of them – Ethan was too busy cursing while his hands flailed to find something to hold on to and Alex yelled out, “Shit!”

 They grabbed each other and Ethan’s left hand found Nate’s shirt as all three of them tumbled into the pool. Warm water engulfed them and for a frightening second, they were floating amidst nothing but bubbles. The smell of chlorine had never been this strong to Ethan and it made him want to vomit.

 They resurfaced almost at the same time, coughing and struggling to remain over water. Nate was still grabbing at him, shocked out of his mind and too drunk to coordinate his body and actually swim. That wasn’t a good decision, holding on to Ethan, because Ethan could do many things if he wanted but he had never been the best swimmer. Once or twice, Nate pulled them both underwater and the thought of drowning was frighteningly real until Alex grabbed onto them both and dragged them over to the side of the pool. Ewing got a hold of Nate there and pulled him out while to their surprise, Ronny and Danny helped Ethan and Alex climb over the side too. The contact with the cold air and ocean breeze after the dip in the warm water made them shiver and their clothes, well drenched, weighed them down.

 “What the fuck man?!” Ronny screamed, quickly sobering up, “The fuck was up with that!”

 “We’re leaving, we’re leaving…” Alex was chanting, tearing their jackets out of Danny’s hands on his way past them. When he noticed Ethan staying behind, he repeated angrily, “We’re _leaving_ , Ethan!”

 “You’re not going anywhere!” Nate yelled after them. This time when he made a step towards him, however, Ethan was prepared.

 While his mother had taught him to never start fights, his father had always been a fan of finishing them in a way that fitted the situation. And the only thing Ethan could think of right now was another punch at Nate. He wasn’t quick enough to dodge it and Ethan might have been far enough so it didn’t really matter but instead of repeating it, he grabbed Nate’s shoulders and pushed him back over the side of the pool.

 “Fuck you, man!” He shouted, slicking back his wet hair and showing Nate the finger while he ran after Alex. It wasn’t that much out of anger and spite, more like something that was just expected to be heard after such an ordeal.

 They had to hop over the fence, clumsily, frightened and drunk still, before sliding down a path covered in sand and dry plants towards the beach below. Many times they nearly tripped and continued the way down rolling, only to grab on to each other and thankfully keep their balance.

 Brightened by the glow of the moon, the strip of sand appeared white and smooth, the waves were dark, their tops sparkling like the wings of a mythical creature. The sound of the party up the path was quickly becoming a distant whisper muffled by the roar of the waves. Like a surreal landscape drawn in a sci-fi book, that’s how magical the night appeared.

 The two of them stopped at the foot of the path where the hard earth merged with the damp sand. Alex looked at him just as Ethan raised his own head, eyes meeting Alex’s immediately in the dark. They stood like that, shoulder to shoulder, for one small eternity.

 Then they ran.

 

 It was hard to run on sand and no amount of adrenaline or alcohol could change that. Actually, the fact that they were still mostly drunk made it so hard not to trip and crawl every few steps. And that at least was fun – less fun was the sand in their wet socks.

 The lights from the street above them illuminated the waves and made the beach less dark and lonely. It stretched on for about a mile along the sea where the crescent ended, like a dead end street. There were no such things in Enfield, there was no faint smell of salt and seaweed, there were no sounds of splashing waves. It was calming in a way different than the quiet intimidation of the howling winds surrounding their town.

 Almost too soon, their chests were heaving and legs trembling with the need to stop. The cold wind had left their mouths dry, throats coarse and lungs aching. Ethan was the first to stop, falling to his knees and instantly feeling the cold caress of a retreating wave dampen the front of his jeans. He couldn’t get any wetter, he decided before lying on his back to face the starry sky. A laugh tore from his dry throat, filling the silence like a clap of thunder.

 “Holy _shit_!” Ethan cursed, rolling left and then right as if he were in pain. His tight muscles radiated warmth. “Fuck!”

 “Dude, get out of there,” Alex scolded him, fighting off a fit of laughter himself, “you wanna catch a cold or something?”

 They stumbled away from the water before collapsing again on the sand. It was hard and cold under their backs and it brought them comfort in its solid strength.

 “What was that, man?” Alex asked him finally and Ethan knew he meant the fight at Nate’s house.

 “Weren’t you there?” Ethan snapped, though he wasn’t that angry. He felt too good to be mad at Alex. “He called me a fag.”

 “Yeah, he was talking to Owens too and he laughed.”

 “Well, fuck Owens! You can tell Owens to strip and give you head and he’d go down on you.”

 “Nate was joking!”

 “And maybe I don’t have a good sense of humour. Since when are slurs funny, by the way?”

 Alex looked uncomfortable for a moment; he sat up slowly, looking anywhere but at Ethan, afraid of meeting the judgement in his eyes. No, slurs weren’t funny. No, he hadn’t meant to laugh and he hadn’t expected Ethan to laugh like Percy had. Yes, he was sorry for assuming he would.

 Alex said nothing of that aloud but the tension in his shoulders made his thoughts rather clear.

 “I’m freezing,” Ethan muttered. As the adrenaline and heat of the movement was beginning to leave them, the cold night was quickly settling in. Their clothes stuck to them like a crust of ice leaving behind goosebumps. They were both shaking.

 “Here,” Alex said quickly, giving Ethan his jacket. He had carried both until now and they hadn’t really needed or had time to pull them on. Now they had to. “Your jacket.”

 It wasn’t much – the jacket was denim, thin and meant for late summer nights, not to necessarily provide warmth. Ethan could feel his teeth chattering as he pulled it on and he rubbed his arms, trying to rid himself of the chills. He didn’t really feel like going back or going anywhere at all.

 Alex had already pulled his own jacket on and was again lying down, urging Ethan to follow. They laid for a long moment after in silence, gazing at the stars, and that atmosphere of romance seemed fake and dirtied by the alcohol and weed that kept their bodies and minds pleasantly numb.

 “Does it hurt?” Alex asked quietly, eyeing Ethan’s bruised nose.

 “He didn’t break it.” Ethan decided, gently touching around his aching nostrils and the bone between his eyes to make sure. “And that dip in the pool washed off the blood. You know, I seriously hope my germs have contaminated his pool! Bastard…”

 “Don’t worry, I think I got him better than he got you.” And Alex winked at him playfully.

 “I was just really drunk, dude,”

 “Do you feel like you can vomit right now? Because I sure do, a bit.”

 Ethan laughed. His stomach was in knots and his head felt like a bubble full of air, ready to burst. He had wanted to throw up before but the wind had helped him a bit and now all he could feel was a dull throb starting at the nape of his neck and surely moving upward. He would have one hell of a headache tomorrow.

 “Thank you,” Ethan said, “No, seriously, thanks for standing up for me like that. If shit hit the fan, I could’ve beaten his ass by myself but it’s nice to know someone has my back.”

 “You’re always doing this.” Alex accused dryly. “Getting into trouble, I mean. Somebody has to watch out for you.”

 “I’ve always thought that was Ronny…”

 “You thought wrong. You dote too much on him. You got better friends.”

 Ethan huffed a shy laugh. If Alex had seen him a few years back, if he had known him the way he did now, he wouldn’t think so. Ethan’s conscience had greatly improved over the past few years that he had been shaking off Ronny’s bad influence. But maybe he still had ways to go before finding himself in a better place. Punching people for no apparent reason shouldn’t be something the new and improved Ethan did. Still, here he was, with his nose bleeding and knuckles aching.

 “Thanks for everything, Alex.” He said again, just to be sure Alex knew how thankful he really was. “You really can punch, huh?”

 “You had doubts?” Alex raised a brow at him, lip quirking upward cockily. It made Ethan wheeze, his lungs and throat too tired to produce another throaty laugh.

 “I didn’t think you’d leave Ava for me,” Ethan admitted, feeling a bit like a whiny ex rather than a friend. He didn’t like it one bit, that change of dynamics.

 “Why?”

 “Well, things between you two seemed to be going south.”

 “Well, you never asked if I was enjoying myself.”

 “I think I pretty much saw, Alex.”

 “Fine, fine…” Alex relented. “But it wasn’t that serious. You think I would choose to make out with some girl rather than punch a guy who’s probably double your size and is about to pummel you?”

 “Yeah, okay, he is not double my size…!” Ethan gasped, offended. “Dude, he’s just an inch taller!”

 “He probably lifts trucks every morning! Are you seriously telling me you didn’t see those shoulders and that chest…?”

 “Am I seriously supposed to be out there looking at guys’ chests?”

 “ _No_ …! But Nate is fucking buff, and I know you know it; he could’ve bench-pressed you without a care.”

 “Totally inaccurate.”

 Ethan was quite sure, in fact, that he could also bench-press Alex without a care. He was an inch or two shorter, sure, and he didn’t really take time to care about working out but he was naturally defined for a boy his age.

 They fell quiet again, comfortable to just lye beside each other. They were close enough that if Alex let his hands drop from his stomach, their fingers would brush against each other on the sand.

 “We should probably go,” Alex was the first to break the silence, groaning as he tried to roll his stiff shoulders without sitting up, “I can probably find our way to the hotel from here, if I try. It wasn’t far.”

 “Do we have to?”

 “Dude, do you really want to wake up with a cold tomorrow? We have a show.”

 Deciding that the jacket wasn’t doing much about the harsh breeze, Ethan followed Alex. They sat up and climbed to their knees together, the space between them even less now. And when they looked up at each other, they realised just how close they really were. A mere breath apart. If by some chance they had swayed forward, their foreheads would’ve come together. But they didn’t dare move, struck suddenly by how wide their eyes appeared and how pale the faces of their reflections in the dull orbs were.

 No warmth came from either of them, as if it had been drained and left them freezing. Their lips, turning an unpleasant shade of grey and blue, hid their chattering teeth. Alex was holding his breath, Ethan noticed, and that was making it even harder not to shiver.

 Alex was the first to lean in and it caught Ethan well off guard – if he hadn’t though, it would’ve been Ethan to go for it, if only a heartbeat later. He looked at him through his dark lashes, his wet bangs falling messily over his forehead; their noses brushed and Ethan felt him breathe again, almost as if he was taking him in before their lips found each other. The slow pressure, the warmth seeping from Alex to Ethan, was so very different from what it had been with Ava before.

 Colour flooded their faces suddenly, hearts remembering to beat again like a piece of intricate machinery that has been brought back to life. The faint smell of beer and vodka on their breaths was enough to tell where their courage came from. Bold fingers caressed down Ethan’s sides, leaving a trail of fire and chills along their path. Alex couldn’t pull him any closer; his thumbs rubbed circles just under the hem of Ethan’s tee shirt, skin against skin, cold and covered in rough sand.

 Feeling brave and consumed by the intensity of the moment, of the first time feeling anyone this close, Ethan let his own hands slide into Alex’s hair, let his palms frame his face. His cheeks felt cold under his fingers, his jaw sharp.

 Their lips parted with a wet pop. And then another kiss followed, slow but breath-taking in its languid nature, in the despair hidden behind it. It made them gasp, puffs of air coming from their noses and more lewd sounds spilling from where their mouths were connected.

 Ethan’s hands slowly came to rest on Alex’s neck when they broke the kiss finally, a quiet exhale warming their lips, no longer blue and trembling. They stayed like that after, breathing each other in, afraid to move, afraid to look each other in the eye again. Ethan felt breakable and so very alone with the gentle way Alex’s hands rested on his sides and Alex felt small and scared of how greatly he enjoyed Ethan’s hands on his neck, his thumbs brushing along his cheekbones in a way that sent sparks down his spine.

 Their eyes opened, ever so slowly, and it felt like the final moments of an ill-fated romance, the final minutes of a tragedy unfolding. It would either be Rose and Jack’s last kiss, or Carol and Therese’s, and Ethan knew well he would be the loser in the end. His heart skipped suddenly, his lungs dried up and shrivelled like raisins under the sun as he waited for the inevitable. A deep, lurking fear set over him like a thundercloud and just like that the realisation of what had just happened filled their eyes, chasing away the haze of beautiful pleasure.

 Ethan took back his hands as if Alex’s skin had burned him.

 “Alex, I’m sorry,” He stammered helplessly, the words fighting their way past his tight throat. “I really didn’t mean…”

 They got up together, the fronts of their jeans covered in a layer of sand. Ethan could feel his eyes beginning to burn with unwanted tears at the thought of what might follow. Looking at Alex, studying his moon-pale face, he saw a similar image. His eyes were wide, glistering with shame and fear. He looked hurt, ruined, as if he had just understood something very crucial about himself, as if the world around him had crumbled and was beginning to be rebuilt in a way he didn’t want.

 He didn’t say anything, he didn’t curse, didn’t yell at him, and that silence was far worse. His mouth opened and closed but Alex’s expression of toxic guilt never melted.

 “Alex…” Ethan heard himself sigh, desperate to prompt any reaction. And after standing there for a moment like a criminal just sentenced to death, Alex brushed past him and with wide strides began to walk towards the end of the beach. “Alex…!”

 “Just, leave me alone right now!” Alex snapped at him, stopping for a moment to look at Ethan.

 “Please, don’t be mad…” Ethan begged, “Let’s just talk about it…”

 “Let me be mad, Ethan! I need to be alone now…So, please, just stay away from me!”

 He watched him for another second, hiding his impending tears behind a snarl, before leaving. Left alone, Ethan couldn’t fight the wave of emotion choking him.

 The stars above were the first to witness his tears falling, leaving behind salty trails of grief and humiliation. Nothing could be worse, Ethan thought, than what had just occurred – suddenly all their conversations, all the words and pleas meant nothing. He decided then that the past few months had been nothing but a mistake. And it was all his fault.

 Hiding his face in his hands, Ethan kicked the sand, anger and despair and retched disgust spilling out of him in thick, poisonous tendrils. He had never felt so out of control, so much like he was nothing. And so he let the tears fall, because there was nothing left to do and nothing stopping them anymore from keeping him company.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, finally, the second to last chapter! Fluff and angst await you ahead and a little heads up - don't be fooled, the ending, which should come in the next two weeks, will be very surprising and definitely not what you might be expecting!

**4.**

 The grip of sleep left him shortly before two, bare and at the mercy of his thoughts. Ethan found himself incapable of holding his eyes shut for longer than a minute and the mattress under him felt like a mute torturer. His own skin felt like it was suffocating him.

 On the bed beside his, Alex lay still – still as if he were in the deepest sleep but Ethan wasn’t so sure he was sleeping at all.

 He watched his back for the longest of time before daring to finally get up, dress and leave the room for good. He couldn’t force himself to sleep or even lay motionless for long enough for his mind to tire and shut off on its own. Careful not to make a sound on his way down, Ethan forced himself to worry about different things. Had Mr Siedle noticed they were gone, had Ronny and Danny gotten back safely, would Jerry Day or Percy be lurking to jump him with applause or biting commentary.

 And most importantly, would anyone know what he and Alex had done on the beach? Would anyone notice the shame on him? Would they see it written all over Alex tomorrow?

 Ethan checked his face briefly in the mirrored wall in the elevator as it took him slowly down to the lobby. His hair was messy after he had spent so long pulling at the dirty blond strands and his face appeared grim and tired. His lips were no longer blue of the cold but his fingers were freezing when he touched them, the memory of his first kiss on his mind – it was nothing but frustrating and a nightmare to think of.

 There was nothing but a slight swelling at the bridge of his nose where Nate had hit him but it was visible and Ethan knew that Mr Siedle would ask questions tomorrow. If Nate was a sore loser he’d most likely tell his own teacher or guardian and then Ethan would definitely be in bigger trouble than the whole ordeal was worth. He hoped nothing like that happened; they had just two more days there to endure and then they would be home. He wasn’t sure just when the long-awaited trip had become something to be endured and that thought hurt him too.

 He made the receptionist company until Ronny and Danny came back and Ethan was sure they were both okay and not driving drunk around Santa Cruz. He told them right away that he didn’t want and wouldn’t be answering any questions. They, in turn, told him Nate wouldn’t be telling anyone about their little fight and that after the sobering swim in the pool, he had realised the mistake was mostly his. Ethan had a hard time believing those were his actual words and it was possible Ewing’s diplomatic approach had saved him more than Nate swallowing his pride.

 Danny had tried to reassure him for the better part of an hour, thinking that all that was troubling Ethan was his fight with Nate at the party, but when he eventually saw that his words wouldn’t make Ethan feel any better he left to go to bed. The mere thought of lying down again and twisting and turning in the hot sheets made Ethan feel sick, despite the late hour. More pleasant was his one-sided conversation with Sandy, the woman who had welcomed them their first day at the Pacific. She was far less grumpy now than she had been then as she spoke of her three husbands and all three divorces while they ate the complimentary snacks stacked under the desk in large boxes.

 The most interesting thing the next morning was making sure Ronny got out of bed and it was Ethan’s job to drag him out of the room in time for breakfast. The only difference in what they were served was the hard-boiled egg rolling wetly beside the slices of ham and cheese. Ethan was keen on talking to Alex, trying all he could to keep things between them as casual as they had been before. But it was obvious that Alex wasn’t in the mood to reciprocate. He ate quietly, agreed with everything Mr Siedle was telling him, and if Ethan was patient – and he very much was – he would see Alex run the tip of his tongue between his lips quickly, secretive, to chase the remains of a feeling or taste that was already gone.

 Ethan himself had thought all night if he felt guilty or not that he had so easily melted into that kiss. He tried to convince himself he did though he didn’t, really. If he could, he would do it all again. If it had been a different Alex, different circumstances, Ethan would’ve kissed him a third time, then a fourth without fear. He’d also approach it differently, he wouldn’t let the intensity of it sweep him under. He would rather take control, let fantasies he knew could never be real back home play out in reality like a dirty movie.

 God, Ethan couldn’t wait to get out of Enfield. But before that, he’d have to learn to live with Alex again – if Alex ever allowed it once they got back.

 

 They were assigned a rehearsal at two o’clock just after lunch and like yesterday, they had to play later that afternoon. Right after Jerry Day and his friends. Percy approached him behind the stage while they were sneaking in a smoke and Ethan had been afraid that he would greet him with his usual careless enthusiasm. He didn’t. In fact, Percy seemed rather reserved; he thanked him, for whatever reason, and his gratitude seemed genuine.

 Ethan was more concerned with Alex and Ava. Their thing hadn’t changed much overnight and maybe she wasn’t mad that he had left her hanging the night before. She was still eager to talk to him, though Alex’s mind was far from her. He didn’t look nervous like he had yesterday; his mind was very much gone elsewhere, locked in a limbo of problems and thoughts.

 Mr Siedle had chosen what they would play – a tiring list of original songs they had barely practised and long instrumentals that left the audience jumping, screaming for more and reminiscing long nights of hot music and light shows. Sometimes Ethan too enjoyed covers, enjoyed putting fresh energy of their own into old songs, some not as iconic as others, and he enjoyed the mix of anxiety and hope it gave him to wait for the crowd’s reaction. Some people didn’t like the sound of their youth played by a high school band of boys with too much enthusiasm and a touch of unmistakable arrogance. But it was through copying the legends that Ethan had found his own personal growth and wasn’t that the way artists learned best?

 Nothing but good vibes had met them with that good old method, if he dared say so himself and as long as he was having fun and the audience too was reaching out for that same energy, did it matter if they played as well as their icons or added something of their own, all unique?

 They finished with one of Mr Siedle’s personal favourites and Ethan could feel an odd rush of emotion wrapping its nasty fingers around his neck and gripping him tight as the first verses of Hozier’s _Take Me to Church_ left Alex’s mouth. They had never liked playing that particular song, had never felt it as theirs despite the eagerness with which their teacher had made the cover for them to try. Mr Siedle, however, had never stopped saying just how much Hozier suited Alex, when he sang and when he played. It was a ground-shattering change of pace, it tore the energy right out of Ethan and he felt himself falling into a dirty mess.

 Gone was the rebellious joy he received from trying to play Three Days Grace or Billy Talent, gone was the comfort of the music tuning out his troubles. Ethan felt present, not only his aching body there to fry under the early evening sun but also his mind felt a part of him again. He thought of that first kiss yesterday, feathery sensations swam to the surface of his memory and he couldn’t just chase them away. Out of habit, his eyes found Alex, standing so close to the edge of the stage as if he was getting ready to jump. Ethan felt as if he were falling already.

 He sang of worship and it made him feel unholy; he spoke of God and it made him think of nothing but sin. The moment felt intimate and pure, never mind the audience. Like a chain locking around him and solidifying an uncanny, even unwanted, relation. And it was the knowledge, the realisation, that nothing could ever be the same again between them that made Ethan so scared but desperate for more of that rich spark. He was beyond the wrong now, too gone to care for anything but the mad desire and urge.

 There was fire in Alex’s eyes, Ethan could swear. He knew it too, he could sense it. Don’t let it stop, Ethan begged whoever could hear and whoever could help him. Don’t let it go back to what it was before last night, he couldn’t be able to live without it anymore.

 He brushed away the moisture from his eyes as quickly as he could the moment the song ended. Ethan could easily pretend that it was nothing but sweat but he knew Alex saw, he knew his tears already. And he met it surprising understanding, if the look in his own glassy eyes could be called such. He didn’t look sad by any means and he certainly wasn’t happy either with their situation, but there was no hate, no resentment.

 His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, desperate for a reminder of last night. He was thinking, Ethan decided, searching for an answer hard for both of them to find. But at least he was making the conscious effort, and Ethan knew that it would come to them soon. They’d talk again, they’d figure things out together. Ethan just knew it.

 

 He waited, he waited the whole day and the whole night for Alex to approach him first. They rebelled against Siedle’s decision to go back to the hotel for dinner and grabbed tacos off some small shop close to the beach just before the show at eight. That was the most adventurous thing they were all up for after last night and so after treating themselves to beer, they were back on their way to the Pacific shortly before ten.

 And Ethan kept waiting. All through the ride in the car, while they hung out with Jerry Day and Percy, and Ava, he kept his distance and watched for the subtle signs he had learned to recognise in Alex’s behaviour. He had become chattier again, certainly fighting through his confusion and straightening out the messed up feelings Ethan had left him with. What had he thought about, Ethan wondered, on his walk to the hotel yesterday?

 When he left him out of sight for longer than a minute, Alex was gone. And so was Ava Chandler. Ethan had secretly hoped that now would be their time to talk, that Alex would grab him by the hand and pull him outside for their very much needed conversation. But Alex didn’t show up for a long time after; neither did Ava.

 Ethan tried desperately to stifle down the impending jealousy, for there was hardly any reason for it. There was nothing between him and Alex that had the right to cause such an immense feeling of hopelessness in him but still the connection they had shared, or at least that which he had mistaken as a secret message, this afternoon during their show made itself known in his mind and heart. If what Alex had told him was true, he had no reason to worry about Ava and him having an intimate relationship and surely with how tensed their days had been Alex wouldn’t even be in the mood for anything. What did Ethan fear then? That they wouldn’t have the chance to straighten things out before they left? That what happened in Santa Cruz would stay there as a dirty secret and they would be forced to live in tension and silence and regret for as long as the next school year was?

 The sudden urge to be away from the stuffy hotel room full of chatting teens and smoke and alcoholic fumes overwhelmed him. Ethan didn’t really have in mind to find Alex when he stood and walked. Most likely, he thought, he would spend another restless night chatting with his new friend Mrs Sandy in the lobby, avoiding everyone and everything and waiting. He wasn’t sure.

 And as he wasn’t so sure where he was going and what he would be doing, Ethan made his way outside without stopping once to look for anybody along his way. He walked, deluding himself that he was doing so aimlessly and with no second thoughts, when he knew he was searching for Alex. He needed to talk, had every word neatly ordered at the tip of his tongue to say – apologies, excuses, pleas and everything in between. He had to make Alex understand, had to find closure. Again Ethan felt guilty for ever telling him, remembered the vivid the image of his mother scowling to herself in their living room when he had shared with her. She had understood his own mistake far quicker than him then and here he was months later fighting through the painful circumstances.

 He found them in the dark under the row of balconies, where he had accused Alex a day ago and had shared a cigarette in shameful silence. Ethan had never been angrier with Alex than he had been then after that painful conversation, and what he felt now was bitter regret rather than anger.

 They were apparently lost in a world now familiar to Ethan. Ava’s slender arms were wrapped around his neck, pulling him under and trapping him so he wouldn’t escape a second time. Alex’s hand rested dangerously close to the plump round edge of her breast, no doubt inching higher while they kissed so wetly that the subtle sounds could be heard all the way where Ethan stood. And though it was no unfamiliar sight, to have the two of them in such a passionate moment where Ethan and Alex had had one of their own, much purer, felt like desecration.

 They wouldn’t talk tonight, even if Alex came to him.

 Ethan turned to walk away before he was somehow caught staring and maybe it would’ve brought Ava pleasure to see the jealousy reeling its ugly head and turning his eyes a bold green.

 Not even halfway to the glass doors illuminated by the bright lights inside the lobby, Ethan ran into Percy Owens. The boy held a cigarette in hand, pressed tightly against the wall where the shadows would cover him entirely.

 When he saw Ethan, he quickly hid the cigarette behind his back – a habit that had been forced upon him as he kept refusing to understand how bad smoking was for his condition.

 “Don’t tell anyone,” Percy pled, as if Ethan would even think of going out of his way to tell, “I just needed a drag, I swear.”

 “Dude, I don’t give a fuck what you do,” Ethan said, his tone sharp and impatient. He continued past Percy before the boy stopped him again.

 “Are you mad?” He asked him and Ethan really wanted to appreciate the softness of his question. He couldn’t. “Did something happen?”

 “What is it to you?”

 “I was just asking,” Percy leaned against the wall, casually now, his body long and slim and colourful shirt buttoned up messily, “I mean, if there’s anything I can help with, I wouldn’t mind. If you need company, I’m here.”

 “No.” Ethan didn’t have to think long to refuse the offer. Percy sounded secretly suggestive now as he said:

 “Well, because I’ve been noticing these signs you give me. I was curious.”

 “Dude, what signs? There’re no signs, this isn’t the X-Files.”

 “Okay, maybe, I was just reading between the lines between us.”

 “Lines? There’re no lines between us, man. There’s barely a word between us.”

 Percy didn’t seem too convinced, his arrogance a thick bubble growing larger every minute he stood looking Ethan up and down. What could he be seeing now, in Ethan’s expression of disgust, in his tensed posture?

 “If you ever need…” He began again and Ethan stopped him before he could go too far.

 “No!” He snapped, unable to look at Percy’s disgusting expression without feeling the need to run, “No, okay! Piss off!”

 Ethan left, rushing through the sliding doors inside the lobby and past Mrs Sandy’s desk with his head bowed. His hands, bawled tightly into fists, shook beside him. He could tell just what had made him feel worse – seeing Alex making out with Ava after kissing him yesterday or Percy Owens and his nasty suggestion. And what if Ethan had sought a bit of comfort in him after all? Alex would certainly not mind.

 For a long time after, Ethan hid in their room, restless and bitter. Biting the skin around his nails until it bled and stung, he’d watch the street outside as the night turned dark and eerie, he’d try to distract himself with TV and fail as his mind kept going back to Alex. He tried to convince himself that yesterday meant nothing, to Alex it couldn’t have meant anything, but how could he when every cell in his body clung to the belief it did? Did Ethan want it to mean something?

 The truth was that he had never had a romantic relationship with anybody and until yesterday, Ethan had lived with the knowledge that back in Enfield it would be impossible to ever have one. That didn’t make him anymore different than any other teenage boy, he too thought with his dick more than he did with his head at times and he had learned that with how often that happened there was no use being ashamed of it. Ethan wanted the wild romance he saw in movies and listened about in songs, wanted it hard and fast and passionate; he wanted to have someone to kiss, to hold and to talk dirty to, someone to love and get love from.

 Kissing Alex had only solidified the need.

 And now he’d have to learn to live without it again and Ethan knew it would be torture. Part of it would be the necessity to keep his distance from Alex, something he had never wanted. Then he thought – was the reason he felt like this only that it had been Alex he had kissed or just the fact that it had been a kiss with another person?

 The opening of the door interrupted his racing thoughts. It was Alex, walking in quietly and with caution until he noticed Ethan was awake.

 “Hey.” He greeted bluntly, standing there like a guilty child that’s come home past its curfew.

 “Hey,” Ethan replied, easily taking the role of the judging and disgruntled parent. He lay on his bed, arms crossed as he stared at Alex, trying to decide how far he’d gone with Ava in the few minutes he had left them with. “So? How was it?”

 Alex’s brows shot up in mute surprise, “How was what?”

 “I’m asking if you had fun with Ava?” Ethan clarified. The mere name of the girl made his skin crawl with envy.

 Alex shrugged, indifferent and unashamed. His casualty made it hard for Ethan’s breathing exercises to calm him down as well as they should.

 “I wanted to talk to you.” He said.

 “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day, but you kept ignoring me.”

 “Can we…talk outside? Go on a walk?”

 “Alex, we can walk all across the country and I’m sure we still won’t be able to straighten things out. Pun fucking intended.”

 “Ethan…”

 He had the vague thought that, judging by the tired sigh Alex heaved, he wanted very much to finish the sentence with something along the lines of _Don’t be a bitch_ , and if he had only dared, Ethan would’ve snapped.

 Alex held himself back and that made it so much easier for him to breathe through his anger and get out of bed.

 “Fine,” Ethan conceded, “let’s walk.”

 Tired as he was, after all those sleepless nights and emotions, Ethan followed Alex onto the street past the parking lot. Cars drove past them, their surfaces illuminated brightly by the street lights and colourful signs shining neon.

 They walked not far up the street till they reached an alley leading to a place dark and buried under the protective shadows of two rows of trees. The street was quiet, lined by houses where the lights had gone out hours ago and stores locked up until the morning. A block down that side street, the outlines of a colourful fence became visible in the dark and the boys saw the shadows of swings and a sandbox in the centre of a small park.

 There were benches and Alex sat down. Ethan stood and watched him, hands in the pockets of his jeans. Goosebumps covered his skin, the gentle wind whisking past them playing with the fine hairs covering his arms.

 “So?” He said, voice quiet but not as kind or patient. “What did you have to tell me?”

 Alex sat there for a long time quiet and by the way he avoided meeting Ethan’s eyes, Ethan guessed that maybe he was ashamed and sorry. When he spoke, his tone was anything but regretful.

 “Why don’t you just stop acting like this, man,” Alex said, his words holding a clear accusation. He ran his hands through his short hair, the dark strands escaping through his long fingers before falling back in place.

 “What?” Ethan gasped. “Acting…how?”

 “Like…” Alex waved his hand between them, “ _this_. However you’re acting now.”

 “What are you talking about?”

 “You’re making all of this weird.”

 “I’m making this weird?”

 “Yes, you’re making it--”

 “Am _I_ making this weird?!”

 “ _Yes_ , you’re making this fucking weird!”

 “Well, then fuck you, Alexander!” Ethan spat, flipping Alex off. “Is this what you wanted to tell me?”

 “No!” Alex shouted, involuntarily. His cheeks quickly turned crimson. “But you keep on screaming at me and I don’t know how to talk to you anymore.”

 “Just talk to me like you used to, Alex! Why the hell do you think you have to change the way you talk to me when things between us can be the way they were!”

 “Because they aren’t,” Alex said grimly, looking up at Ethan. “Because you know they can’t be, they haven’t been the same in months.”

 “And it’s because of _me_?”

 “Yes,” Alex said that so matter-of-factly that it made Ethan want to punch him like he had Nate. “Because you’ve been making a problem out of all of this ever since…since you told me you were…And I have absolutely no idea how to act about it, or how to talk to you!”

 “That’s what you think,” Ethan told him, “but from my point of view things aren’t much different, Alex. In fact, you know what? The way I see it you’ve been avoiding me for months, acting like I’m terminally ill for months, and how the hell am I supposed to talk to you? How am I supposed to handle this when every time I try to talk to you, you ignore me?”

 “Well, if you can’t tell that this entire thing is making me uncomfortable, then…!”

 “What _thing_?”

 “This _crush_ thing you’ve got going!”

 Ethan felt his mouth go dry, “Crush? You think I’ve got a crush on you now?”

 He looked down at him with enough disbelief to make himself laugh and Alex appeared so certain and convinced in what he was saying that Ethan couldn’t help but feel that there was something else he didn’t want to outright admit. The idea of a crush when Ethan had never shown nervousness or treated Alex in any romantic way surely had to be another lie. Either that, or Alex was projecting his own insecurities on Ethan and that’s where the miscommunication between them happened.

 “Well, what am I supposed to think?” Alex snapped at him. Ethan couldn’t look at him anymore.

 “You’re crazy…”

 “Am I? You’ve been making a big deal out of everything between us ever since you came out to me! And why did you decide to tell me of all people exactly? See, I knew there was something more to it!”

 “I told you because you were my friend, man,” Ethan said, feeling like he was stuck in an ever-repeating loop, talking and talking but never saying anything remotely different. “We talked about this just a day ago, don’t you remember?”

 “Friends don’t kiss each other, Ethan!”

 “You’re the one who kissed me first!”

 Neither could really believe they were having such a conversation – Ethan couldn’t because he was being so crudely accused of flirting when he had been afraid to even look at Alex for months and Alex because he just couldn’t seem to get his thoughts across. Not like he had enough thoughts to confuse them all but the ones that did linger on his mind were plenty. Ethan was the most troubling one.

 “How about you tell me something that’s not bullshit,” Ethan said, willing himself to remain calm though he was hardly anything but. “Did you want us to talk so you could accuse me or bully me into admitting that I’m in love with you or something?”

 “No.” Alex denied desperately. “That’s not what I want. I didn’t want any of this shit! It’s just…”

 “It’s just what?”

 Alex buried his face in his palms, hiding the blush quickly spreading high on his cheeks. Ethan waited for him to answer but the longer it took for Alex to get it together, the more impatient he became. It didn’t help a bit that he didn’t know just what Alex wanted to say – the possibilities were countless. Would it be a positive or negative outcome and what had he intended with this conversation aside from what he had said so far?

 Ethan had hoped before that maybe they could solve the problem and he still wanted things to get better or take the surprising turn towards something more but he also had enough pride and confidence to know when to face reality. If Alex wanted a fight, he’d get one, but Ethan would surely not force himself to admit a lie for the sake of their friendship.

 “I think something’s wrong,” Alex said, voice muffled by his palms, and when he moved them away to dig his fingers into his hair again, his eyes were tearful. And those tears as if made their blue colour brighter and that more wonderful to look at, “Something’s got to be wrong, I can’t explain it otherwise.”

 Ethan frowned, uncomprehending, “So why did you kiss Ava then? To make it better?”

 “I kissed her because of you! Because I wanted to prove to myself that what happened with you was a mistake, and then it backfired on me, like…” Alex lowered his voice, “It didn’t prove shit, I didn’t even like it. And then I kept thinking of _you_ …”

 “Do you have…a crush on me, man?” Ethan whispered, stunned into silence. “Wow…I have to say, I’m really flattered.”

 That might not have been the exact response Alex had expected and so he looked up at Ethan, brows furrowed as if to say, _Shut up and act adequately to the situation for once_.

 Though Ethan was amused, and he was happy with this positive turn of events. He had expected it but definitely not as much as he had expected Alex to keep denying and for everything to end badly for both of them. He could make his way around something like this better, especially with his newfound attraction to the other.

 He couldn’t call it love or a crush on his part but damn what wouldn’t he do to say proudly that he, Ethan C. Mallory, had made one straight teen dance right out of the closet.

 “It’s not a crush,” Alex said stubbornly.

 “Okay,” Ethan agreed, “then what? What…What do you have? You kiss a guy once and then when you don’t like kissing this _one_ girl again, you think you’re gay now? Yeah, no. It doesn’t work that way, it’s not an STD.”

 “I never said that!”

 “You were probably thinking it.”

 “Can you take _anything_ seriously?”

 “Well, this ain’t a world problem, Alex, it’s a sexual identity crisis. Most kids grow out of those before twenty. Plus,” Ethan crossed his arms, lips quirking up rather smugly, “have you any idea how much game I get in Enfield? Zero. So to know someone likes me like that is a plus to my ego.”

 Alex laughed dryly, “Then I take back what I said. Your ego’s big enough as it is.”

 “I’m not gay,” he declared suddenly, looking up at Ethan. Ethan would’ve argued – one could simply not be fully heterosexual after crushing on and kissing their best male friend, but for Alex’s sake, he bit his lip and kept quiet. Only the doubtful raise of his brows showed those thoughts. “I’ve never felt like this before. Not towards a boy…or a girl.”

 “Love works in mysterious ways.”

 “This isn’t _love_.” Alex grimaced.

 “What,” Ethan gasped, “you don’t love me?”

 “You know I…You know what I mean!”

 Ethan smiled, “Don’t get your panties in a twist! I get it. Still, though…It kind of makes me happy to know that I’m…your first _something_. I’ve never felt like this towards another guy too. So, don’t worry, it’s not a gay thing.”

 “So what does that make us?” Alex sounded meek. And that allowed Ethan to gain a bit of confidence in the situation. It was obvious Alex had it worse than him and until they straightened things out, it wouldn’t get any more bearable. But they were talking, finally. That’s all that mattered. And they were being honest, there was no room for lies or dancing around each other anymore.

 “Do you want us to be anything?” Ethan asked. He watched Alex shrug and waited, his heart feeling as though it were on a rollercoaster ride around his ribs while he wondered if that was the right question to ask. What if Alex said no?

 “I don’t know…I don’t know what the fuck this is. I’m not sure I want anything, and I’m scared I’ll be sorry…I don’t want to get my hopes up for something that might end next week.”

 “We don’t have to rush it…”

 “The problem is that I don’t even know if I want this, Ethan.”

 Ethan nodded, trying to drown his disappointment in understanding.

 “That’s fair.”

 He waited for Alex to get himself together for a few more minutes and soon after they were walking back the same way they had gotten there – in silence and at a distance. From time to time they’d share wary, almost shy glances but no words. By the time they reached the hotel, it was already an hour later and their thoughts were far from the hazardous mess they had been before when they had left.

 In the room just under theirs, people were laughing and talking. They met nobody familiar on their quiet retreat to their temporary home on the fourth floor. The stay there was as uncomfortable and silent as the walk; after their conversation, it felt as though there was nothing else left to say and still there was too much to say. Ethan could feel the words threatening to overflow.

 Alex turned on the TV and both sat down on their separate beds to watch him flip through channels. He found a cartoon channel and suddenly, as if they were both a pair of kindergarteners, they found themselves watching an episode of Gumball.

 “So how was it?” Ethan asked and Alex didn’t have to ask for a clarification to know he meant the kiss with Ava. He answered plainly, without much detail or shame.

 “It was wet. She was less reserved than at the party yesterday…And it was kind of gross, actually. I thought it’d be hot and that I’d get into it but it turned even more sloppy and nasty and…” he waved his hands around helplessly, “It was just bad. There was saliva everywhere. We didn’t do anything after that. Don’t be jealous.”

 “I was never jealous.”

 “Yeah, right.”

 “You know,” Ethan said, wanting to face Alex but also not. He kept his eyes trained on the TV screen but his attention was far from Gumball and Darwin’s misadventures, “you don’t have to be gay to like kissing guys. There’s this thing called bisexuality, you know, and finding what you like takes time and courage to experiment.”

 “I know what bisexuality is, Ethan,” Alex threw in, his sass and sarcasm strong and overwhelming. He didn’t look at Ethan either but stared at the TV.

 “All I’m saying is that…There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Like, it’s even normal, it’s awesome. I mean, think about the pluses? Double the love, wider dating pool? And just to be fair, the mere ability to choose which gender to have sex with for the simple pleasure of it despite the natural need to reproduce, that alone puts you a whole level on top of evolution! Sexuality is above nature, which, automatically, puts humanity a step ahead. That’s pretty badass. And can we stop for a moment to think about the Greeks and the Romans and those wild orgies they…”

 “Ethan,” Alex interrupted coolly, “shut up for a minute.”

 “Okay.”

 Alex took a moment to breathe, “Go on.”

 “Just so you know,” Ethan continued, “genetically, there’s nothing wrong with being gay or bi, or anything else. It’s a plus that makes you better than animals.”

 “Then why aren’t you bi?” Alex asked and Ethan saw his eyes narrow. He wasn’t trying to be intentionally insulting, he could understand as much, instead he appeared genuinely confused and curious.

 “Oh, not me. No, no, it’s not my thing really.”

 “How do you know that?”

 “Well, I’m not going to go make out with Ava to prove it to you but let’s just say I’ve gotten my fair share of girls in porn and I can say for a fact that my dick isn’t interested in any of them.”

 Alex’s frown of confusion didn’t disappear so easily and so Ethan felt the sudden urge to explain in a simpler way, “I can’t get it up for girls. They don’t turn me on, sexually, they…”

 “Ethan, I heard you the first time.” Alex snapped. He, apparently, was less than eager to talk so openly about some of the things Ethan had been bottling up for the majority of his puberty. “I’m not like that.”

 “Then you’re bi, that’s fine.”

 “I’m _not_ bi, either. I don’t know, I’m…I guess I’m just ethansexual.”

 It took a moment, just a moment of a single second really, for Ethan to hear what Alex had so carefully said. And when he did, his lips stretched slowly into a subtle but gentle and loving smile.

 “Yeah,” he said, “I just might be a bit alexsexual myself, then.”

 “Was yesterday…” Alex swallowed thickly, “Was it your first kiss?”

 Ethan answered with a short but confidant hum.

 “I’ve always thought you’ve gone all the way, with someone. Because you’ve always acted so confident about sex, so I thought…”

 “I read about stuff,” Ethan said. “I do research about the stuff I feel confused about. It’s 2017, Alex. Get your head out of your ass, please. I don’t need to have sex to be confident.”

 Alex smiled, “So your type really isn’t somebody like Mark Fuller or Brad Preston?”

 “If it were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

 Alex feigned hurt but it was obvious he was amused. It made Ethan relax rather quickly as the ice between them melted finally and for good.

 Alex got up from the bed so suddenly that it could hardly be said Ethan had anticipated it, but he had, and when he sat down to face Ethan, Ethan scooted back to make room for him like he had known. And it was perhaps then that they both realized that Ethan wouldn’t just be making room for Alex on his bed but in his heart as well as in his mind and the same could be said for Alex.

 “I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened on the beach,” Alex said, the softness of his voice overpowering the now distant rumble of the TV. “If I…I need to try this and if I…”

 “No ifs.” Ethan warned, cursing himself for the way his voice trembled and became so quiet, it was barely a whisper. “Just don’t let there be any ifs.”

 “Can I then…?” Alex sought approval and Ethan couldn’t have been more desperate.

 “Yeah, _yeah_.” He nodded eagerly, tongue running across his lips as if the taste of Alex was still there. Maybe not the taste but surely there was the feeling, the ghostly sensation of lips against his own that he couldn’t wait to feel again.

 They sat closer to one another, until their knees touched, and Ethan felt Alex’s warm palm close around his knee. He crawled towards him, both breathing in their warmth and the signature scent of their skin. They both knew it wouldn’t be just a peck, it wouldn’t be a goodnight kiss or goodbye kiss but it would hold all the meaning in the world because they realized then as they sat face to face, inches apart, that there wouldn’t be any ifs.

 Alex kissed him first and he wouldn’t deny that come morning like he had the last time; he tipped his head forward, the tip of his nose caught Ethan’s as their lips met. A knot tied thick ropes of pressure deep within Ethan’s abdomen and an invisible force of passion and need pulled the ends of the rope apart, winding that knot tighter and tighter until he couldn’t breathe and he felt almost weak enough to fall back down.

 “Close your eyes,” Alex whispered. “Please.”

 “Okay, okay…” Ethan quickly agreed, eagerly, and just as he was about to say something Alex dove down for another kiss.

 His lips parted easily when Alex’s tongue sought entrance and his hands found Alex’s waist this time. They lingered there, pawed and dipped under his tee shirt to feel his warm skin erupt in goosebumps as he caressed it gently, so slowly and with incredible patience. He had envied Ava not so long ago but now Ethan understood that there had been nothing to envy, in fact, it was her who should be envious of the slow, soft way Alex pressed his lips against his and of the way his hands framed his face and cradled his cheeks like two lovers in a movie.

 And not long after, their kiss became a bare remain of one. Something beyond the teenage arousal and sexual drive rolled over them and it felt like the closest thing to romance they had ever believed was possible to experience with anyone. Their breaths came in puffs, warm against their lips as they breathed each other in.

 They pulled apart and Alex took off his shirt, rolled the cotton right off his lean chest to expose sun-kissed skin. His fingers bowled around the material and held it tightly in his lap, baring himself and his insecurity and fear for Ethan to see and soothe if he liked.

 With the same slowness, Ethan took off his own shirt and left it beside them. Their eyes never left each other, it was far better having a place to look at than for their gazes to wander aimlessly across each other and cause any unnecessary worry and discomfort. They had seen each other naked and sweaty so many times that it was a wonder, a pleasant thrill, to be so nervous now as if it were the very first time.

 Ethan kissed him first now, for the first time, letting his hands roam from Alex’s sides, letting his palms caress bravely his flat chest and squeeze his shoulders and arms until he no longer shook under his fingers. And despite his confidence and all he knew – and Ethan felt so many times that he knew all there was to know, about love, about life, about sex and everything in between – the sudden thought that this intimate moment was so very fragile and there could be so many consequences made his heart race painfully.

 What if something went wrong? And what was that _something_? Was it sex? Was it love? What if it ended up in pain and tears for both of them because they couldn’t know better, they didn’t know better, and no amount of reading could ever prepare one enough for the actual thing. It made Ethan feel small, and if it had such a big effect on him, then Alex was as good as a crushed leaf in autumn.

 They scooted back, back until there was nowhere else to go, and even then Ethan let himself lie down, down until his back hit the mattress and his head the pillow. He pulled Alex along, fingers digging firmly into his shoulders and neck while Alex mimicked the pressure on his thigh where his hand remained. Their position quickly turned intimate and not childish and uncertain, with Alex nestled close between Ethan’s thighs, pliantly spread. He braced himself above Ethan with one arm and Ethan thought suddenly – here they were, mature enough to undress and make out but afraid enough of everything else to not even dare let their bare bodies touch properly.

 They broke apart just as the thought occurred and he wasn’t shy anymore as he looked up at Alex, stared deep into his eyes and decided that this couldn’t happen, didn’t have to happen and that he didn’t want it to happen at all. Not because of Alex, no, there was hardly a thing Ethan wanted more than this single Alex in this one reality, but because he didn’t trust himself and his decision.

 The heat blossomed across his cheeks like roses blooming slowly and Ethan felt instantly warm and disgusting all over; his body ached under Alex’s gentle scrutiny. The knot in his abdomen felt so close to breaking but yet a mere hair away and he realized with honest horror that there were the prominent lines of his member forming a visible tent in his jeans. He hadn’t meant to look but when his eyes skimmed curiously down Alex’s chest and where his abdomen met his flat belly, where the faint hints of feathery hairs disappeared under the waistline of his own jeans, there was a similar bulge.

 He quickly looked up again, forced his eyes to remain on the hollow between Alex’s collarbones. Alex was well on the skinnier side, his muscles tight but underdeveloped for the body of an athlete. And still, as he towered over Ethan his chest and shoulders appeared wide enough to cover him completely.

 Following a sudden, incessant urge, Ethan leaned up only enough to kiss the piece of skin he had been admiring. It was so warm, unlike Alex’s hands which he could feel clammy and shaking where they held him, and Ethan felt a tremor of shock run across Alex’s body as if he had been electrocuted.

 This was it, he thought, and the thought might have been mutual and shared between them. There was no need to experiment further, it was in that moment both knew with unquestionable certainty that there would never be anything quite like what they shared and would share and nothing would come close to the feeling of being touched by each other and kissed by each other and held. No matter how many lovers they had in the future or how many relationships, they had found each other despite the borders of thoughts and comprehension and they were meant to be.

 It was an emotional revelation and with the strength of acid it washed away their arousal. Ethan’s bottom half still felt tight, as though he had made a few too many sit-ups. When Alex leaned down, albeit slowly, for another kiss, he turned away. Alex’s lips touched instead the shell of his ear and the ticklish caress made Ethan shiver. He couldn’t face Alex and the boy above him did still, waiting for Ethan to give him the green light.

 But Ethan didn’t. He laid there silent, turning further and further until he lay on his side under Alex with one arm under his pillow to hug it tightly. Alex stayed close to him, the tip of his nose tickling the shell of Ethan’s ear as his warm breath filled Ethan with just as much warmth and made his heart swell in his chest and flutter like a helpless butterfly caught in a fly trap.

 When Alex got up from the bed, Ethan raised his head meaning to look at him as he went to bed but unable to. He wasn’t sure just what he had been expecting but his eyes filled with burning tears as he listened to Alex lay down, then the mattress squealed as he rolled over so his back was turned to Ethan. He turned off the TV and the room became horribly silent and cold.

 

 Ethan woke up with a start and though he wasn’t quite sure when he had fallen asleep and how he had managed that, he quickly understood what had woken him. There had been a loud bang in the room below theirs followed by a startling cackle. It was Ronny.

 “Are you okay, man?” He heard him ask, his voice muffled by the distance separating them.

 Danny replied a moment later, his voice even more impossible to make out, “I’m fine, I’m fine! The shower head just fell, oh…Oh, what the _fuck_!”

 Ethan rolled over to face the ceiling and found out with surprise that it was still dark. The room was partly brightened by the streetlights outside.

 It wasn’t long past three when he checked the time. Ethan listened to Ronny laugh for another minute before turning to face Alex. He was like him awake, on his back and staring numbly at the white ceiling. His bare chest rose and fell with every gentle, quiet breath.

 “Have I ever told you,” Ethan mumbled, surprising himself more than he did Alex, “about Mary Hamilton? It was back in sophomore year. She was a chubby girl, no, not chubby, she was just fat…I called her something mean in the middle of the hall one day, where everybody could hear and I yelled it at her back. She looked at me…and she looked about ready to cry but it didn’t really mean anything to me back then because Ronny was laughing and everybody else was laughing so I felt good. I don’t remember what else I said but I did this, like, that blowjob gesture at her. It was pretty dumb.”

 He let his head roll to the right to find Alex looking at him too, waiting for him to finish with raised brows.

 “That’s my most embarrassing moment,” Ethan said, “I don’t think I’ll ever let myself forget it. I really want to apologize to Mary. But she changed schools, a week after I did that bullshit in the hall. I think that maybe her family moved out of town because I never really saw her after that. I just hate myself for it sometimes.”

 “Why are you telling me that?” Alex asked. His voice was no louder than Ethan’s.

 Ethan turned around to face him, hugging his pillow like he had before he fell asleep.

 “Because I’m a douchebag. Because I’m a total dick and I don’t want you to have to deal with me more than you got to.”

 “Ethan, you’re not just a dick. You’re the biggest, meanest and dumbest dick I’ll ever meet in my life, probably.”

 “Honey, baby,” Ethan said sweetly, “you needn’t be so polite.”

 “But I’m with you, aren’t I? For better or worse. So…”

 “Are you? With me, I mean?”

 Their eyes met and Alex’s were so full of love and adoration so pure and honest that Ethan felt it cocoon him in warmth, soft and unbelievable. His chest felt tight, unable to contain his joy.

 “I want to be,” Alex said, soft but confident. “I still don’t know how…I still don’t know what this is and how it happened…”

 He didn’t finish, the words left hanging between them. But Ethan knew what he meant, wanted to think he understood. They lay a long time after that way, looking at each other with lazy smiles and sleepy eyes. The next time they woke, it was already early morning and it was to the startling sound of Ethan’s alarm.

 He stood in the light of the rising sun when Alex opened his eyes and rubbed away the crusted sleep from their corners. He smacked his lips, gulping down the stale saliva before looking at Ethan’s bed; it was unmade and empty.

 Alex turned off the alarm before looking left to the balcony. The door was open and Ethan stood outside, barefoot and naked but for his boxers. His body was beginning to mature and he was hardly just a boy anymore, he was a young man. He wasn’t as tall as his peers and perhaps he wouldn’t grow more but he wasn’t gangly or thin. Ethan was surprisingly toned for his age, his shoulders wide and perfect for a swimmer, his thighs and legs thin but strong as those of a volleyball player though Ethan wasn’t a fan of sports. The thin hairs covering his legs and arms were too soft and blonde to be visible, making it seem as though his skin was bare and smooth.

 If Alex were to compare him to anybody, he’d have to admit that physically Ethan came quite close to his idol Freddy Mercury; his smile and nature though screamed Sid Vicious.

 “Hey,” Ethan said, smiling wide when he noticed Alex’s quiet observation. He was having his morning cigarette and he stubbed it out on the concrete floor of the balcony before walking in.

 “Good morning,” Alex greeted back, “how long have you been up?”

 “Half an hour.” Ethan sighed, sitting on the bed by Alex’s legs. “I took a shower. You can go in yourself, we can be late for breakfast.”

 “Can I tell you a secret? When you asked if I had any problems with the shower and I said no, I actually had. I couldn’t get the water to flow for longer than five seconds.”

 “I knew that already. The shower here sucks.”

 “Ethan?” Alex said after a silent moment and Ethan sat up a bit straighter as he noticed the change in his previously casual tone. “When we go back to Enfield…I don’t want this to end. Whatever we had here, I want us to bring it back home. I don’t want us to go back to what we were before.”

 He looked at him, his large eyes as hopeful as those of a child, and Ethan knew he was hooked.

 His lips quirked up rather shyly before he was unable to conceal the broader smile any longer. Then Ethan swooped down, the motion making the bed bounce under them, and kissed Alex soundly on the lips. The kiss was harsh and quick and it held no passion or need but gratitude. It was something both of them could do now and both of them could have without needing to ask.

 “And, by the way, about Mary Hamilton, how _could_ you…!”

 “No, _nope_ , I’m talking about that again, _ever_!”

 “We had classes together with her, asshole, do you know how sweet she was!”

 They got down for breakfast only a few minutes late and decided promptly that they wouldn’t take the outrageously small meals they were served now that it was their final morning in the Pacific. They showed Mr Siedle the taco shop they had visited before and grabbed a bite there before their arranged rehearsal.

 Their last performance was scheduled for nine that evening. Their little band had gained a good enough reputation among both the audience and the organisers so they had earned their place among the closing participants. They’d be on the road early the next morning.

 Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off Alex at all throughout the sound check. And not only his eyes, it was hard not to touch Alex or gravitate towards him whenever he was near. Ethan had never had a boyfriend or love interest. Having one now was a pleasant, addicting feeling that made him bold and overwhelmed. He might not have understood much about love, he wasn’t yet as grownup to know where their boundaries reached, but if it was with Alex he wouldn’t mind trying out everything.

 Alex was less cooperative throughout the day, keeping his distance but nevertheless catching Ethan’s eye whenever he could, smiling softly like he had as they had fallen asleep the night before or winking smugly and making Ethan laugh. Still confused and coming to grips with the sudden changes that had happened in the last few days between them, he was uncomfortable and subtle with the public display of affection.

 They went for their first and final swim just before lunch. They ate at the hotel before going to take a quick shower and pack up for the ride tomorrow. Alex held the stubborn knob that let the water flow while Ethan washed the salt off his skin and Ethan returned the favour, rewarding him with the long and refreshing shower he had been longing for.

 They ate leftover snacks, stale cookies and salted crackers, watched TV and dozed off, looking at each other and wishing they were brave enough to come closer. They went out to eat something with the boys at six while Mr Siedle made friends with the teachers and organisers back in the hotel and at half-past seven they were standing in the back of the stage again for the last time. Neither of them could comprehend the moment and they couldn’t realize its finality. They’d never go back there and they’d never relive the past week. The ending was nearing and with it the final credits of a summer romance.

 The tension returned when the back of the stage filled with familiar faces – Nate and Ewing, Jerry Day and Percy, Ava Chandler. They avoided each other and each time one looked away, the other would stare and whisper quickly. Those of them who had been boisterous and loud the first days were now surprisingly quiet and judging. Ethan had a very hard time acting casual; every time his eye caught Nate he’d see only his bruised nose and jaw and whenever he looked at Percy he’d remember his wolfish leer. Ava was a whole other story related not to hate but to bitter jealousy now that things between him and Alex were settled. Though he found the bare idea of it quite hot and sexy, Ethan wasn’t interested in passionate threesomes, especially with girls as unattractive.

 They climbed the stage with confidence and calmness brought on by the times they had gone through the familiar procedure before. The hissing of the smoke machines caught the attention of the audience and they erupted in loud cheers again as the stage went dark; a set of red lights cut through the momentary darkness and Ethan hopped behind the drums. He felt surprisingly cold, his naked arms were covered in goosebumps and his skin tingled with the light gust of wind coming from the sea. He recalled the first time he had been sweating and his clammy hands had squeezed the sticks as though they were bars of slippery soap. His mind now was in another scape entirely.

 “Greetings and salutations,” Alex surprised them by saying into the mic after the quick sound check. The commotion of the audience quieted, becoming a dull buzz somewhere far where his voice could freely reach. “I’d like to make a short message, thank you!”

 He looked sideways to Ronny and Danny, who were both as baffled as the few standing behind the stage, and then turned somewhat to look at Ethan over his shoulder. Then he winked, soothing whatever tension and needless excitement Ethan had felt.

 “Most of you don’t know me,” Alex told the crowd, “but my name’s Alex Decker and I’d like to thank you all for making our first time on this stage as part of this festival memorable. This isn’t a practised speech, so it might be a bit messy, but I’d like to dedicate our last show here to all of you people who feel insecure and unsure of themselves and of their situation, whatever it may be. Because changes are scary as hell and we’re all going through more than we can handle right now. To all of you people in love, to all of you brave people who dare to be who you are daily and take the insults for it…You’ve got support and you’ve got love all around you. Keep that in mind…” he paused, “And now, because I’m so bad with words and I also believe nothing can get to the heart and soul faster than music, how about we get this show on the road?!”

 Alex clapped his hands above his head and the people cheered; their voices were like a wave, washing closer from the very back, becoming louder and louder before suddenly clashing with the stage and washing over them.

 They opened with a cover of _Survivor_ and Ethan decided that he liked the depth of Alex’s voice as he sang with passion more than the aggression Lindsey Logan sang it with. Last he’d seen Alex so excited to sing had been a long time ago when he had sung _Young and a Menace_ at Turner’s; he played with his voice like he had been singing for years and would sing for decades to come, he danced with the mic stand and urged the audience to sing along. He had thrown aside the inhibitions of the shy teenager and had stepped into the shoes of the showman that he’d become in the near future.

 His freedom and casualty made the boys feel braver to experiment and enjoy what they were doing. Ethan knew that they had never played as well and would never manage the same sound together. All through _One Night Only_ , through _Smells Like Teen Spirit_ and _Red Flag_ , _Ex’s and Oh’s_ and _I Knew You Were Trouble_ , they played like they’d be forbidden to ever touch an instrument in the next hour. And when Alex broke his own personal rule by singing Queen’s _Love of My Life_ , Ethan felt overwhelmed enough to cry tears of joy. Alex had told him many times before how uncomfortable it made him to sing something he knew people would judge him for and, naturally, he still sang with something unintentionally his that combined with Ethan’s most favourite band and most favourite lyrics made him fall a little bit more in love.

 Just as the audience was beginning to chant feverishly for a repeat of Alice Cooper’s _Poison_ , Alex hopped on one of the speakers in the front of the stage and raised his arms up to silence them, the grand gesture similar to that of a Roman emperor.

 “And now,” he called into the mic, “one special song for all the special people out there who needed to hear it today. I know we all know this one so let me hear you!”

 Like _Love of My Life_ a few minutes prior, this final song was another surprise that made the boys rather anxious to see what Alex would take them through. He jogged over to Ethan, his face flushed with adrenalin and his hair dripping sweat, and his body radiated heat like a grain of the sun come to earth.

 “You know that song,” Alex said, looking down at Ethan whose eyes were full of worship, “the one we played for your parents in the basement that one time? Their song?”

 Ethan nodded, “Yes.”

 “Do you want it to be our song too?”

 He wouldn’t have been as flustered and smitten if Alex’s words had been a marriage proposal. Wordlessly, Ethan nodded, and as Alex ran back to the front of the stage to pick up the mick he took off his drenched tee shirt and brushed the sweat off his palms to grasp the drum sticks again. His throat felt tight and despite the sudden urge to sing and to shout, he knew he wouldn’t be able to make a sound.

 His eyes stung with moisture and Ethan dismissed that as the sweat rolling down his forehead and face in rivulets.

 It took less than the first few words for him to forget that the song had once been _Molly and Dave’s_ and for the thought to brighten his mind like a firefly on steroids – this was _their_ song now, this was _Alex and Ethan’s_ song. Ethan had thought before that _Lovefool_ would be as iconic as they could get but nothing felt as right as _Heaven Is a Place on Earth_ and nothing could make him breathe a little faster like hearing Alex’s smooth tone fall right in place with Belinda Carlisle’s.

 Thought they played by memory and many times the sound was shy and not one but a few small mistakes were made, everybody was too overwhelmed to comprehend the moment of intensity where infinity appeared near and small in the palm of their hands. They had never poured their souls out into any song as much as now and it worked surprisingly well. It reminded them just why they were a band, because they worked together, because they sounded well together.

 In one powerful moment mid-sentence, Alex turned his back to the audience, raised his hands and brought them down similar to Andre Riau during a concert. The boys stopped playing and stood frozen in shock and joy as the voice of the audience filled the air for one single minute, singing tirelessly and without hesitation. As if the music was still going.

 It was a sight to behold – dozens of people jumping up and down with their arms raised, lighters and balloons and hats squeezed into their stubborn fists. All of them were singing and even the kids who didn’t know the words screamed and cheered and tried to make as much sound as possible. Couples were holding hands and kissing, teens were embracing and boys were heaving girls up on their shoulders so they could see the stage. Nothing changed as the boys began playing again and Alex though vaguely that, with the rate his heart was beating, if it stopped now, he wouldn’t mind this being his final moments.

 He looked back at Ethan who was giving it his all on the drums as the final moments of the song came near. There was a battle in his eyes, one between his desire to run up to Alex when he outstretched his hand for him to take and the need to play until the end. When Alex kept waving him over with childish stubbornness, both of them knew just which side was about to win.

 Ethan threw the sticks aside with a dramatic gesture and the missing beat of the drums was easy to feel for barely a few seconds as he stood up and ran for the edge of the stage. There would never be a second time like this, he thought and his heart clenched with dread, with nervousness and fear. He’d never do this again.

 That sudden feeling made him want to stop only a few steps away from where Alex was waiting for him. Instead, Ethan forced it down, swallowed the bitterness and grabbed onto Alex’s hand. Their sweaty palms slid into each other and their hands clasped tightly together like unbreakable cuffs. They ran up to the very edge of the stage where they stared down at the daunting and infinite fear. Their soles found the sharp edge and they let their momentum and speed drive them over.

 A gust of air engulfed them as they fell into the waiting hands below and at that moment all Ethan could think of was the starry sky spreading above them, merging with the colourful lights flooding the night and becoming clouds through the tears filling his eyes. He might have really gone to heaven, for at that moment, Ethan felt no fear at all. With Alex’s hand in his, with the music in his ears and the light around him, he had nothing to be scared of.


End file.
